Society
‘The Future Will Be Built By The People Who Survive Under The Heel of Putinism’
December 13, 2024
Journalist Oleg Kashin, who has been living in London for six years, shares his thoughts in an interview about today’s Russian media space, both in Russia and in exile, and about the outlook for the country after the end of the Putin regime.
The original interview in Russian was published in Republic. A shortened version is being republished here with Oleg Kashin’s permission.
Almost three years have passed since February 24. How has the Russian-language media landscape changed during that time?
The tectonic shift came on February 24, when the authorities destroyed the “systemic” liberal media. When they disappeared, it became clear that it was them that had largely ensured the harmony that had existed in the censored Russian media space in the prewar years. We are talking, first of all, about Novaya Gazeta and Ekho Moskvy, as well as, probably, TV Rain, though its glory days are behind it.
Replacing Ekho, Novaya and TV Rain were — I know it’s a stretch — Ksenia Sobchak’s media, Kommersant to an extent and, perhaps, RBC. Now, they are the cutting edge of censored Russian media, which you can read without feeling too bad about it. And the same probably goes for working there too.
Almost three years have passed since February 24. How has the Russian-language media landscape changed during that time?
The tectonic shift came on February 24, when the authorities destroyed the “systemic” liberal media. When they disappeared, it became clear that it was them that had largely ensured the harmony that had existed in the censored Russian media space in the prewar years. We are talking, first of all, about Novaya Gazeta and Ekho Moskvy, as well as, probably, TV Rain, though its glory days are behind it.
Replacing Ekho, Novaya and TV Rain were — I know it’s a stretch — Ksenia Sobchak’s media, Kommersant to an extent and, perhaps, RBC. Now, they are the cutting edge of censored Russian media, which you can read without feeling too bad about it. And the same probably goes for working there too.
Andrei Kolesnikov, the Kommersant correspondent who has covered Vladimir Putin for almost the entirety of his presidency. He coauthored First Person: An Astonishingly Frank Self-Portrait by Russia's President Vladimir Putin, a collection of in-depth interviews published in 2000. Source: Facebook
It is telling how Andrei Kolesnikov (the special correspondent for Kommersant who writes about Kremlin affairs and Putin — Republic) has changed: all of a sudden, his feuilletons about Putin have begun to resonate with reality again. You read him and you can literally feel the breath of the Autumn of the Patriarch.
Meanwhile, TV Rain, Meduza and a number of relatively new media whose voices were heard only after the war, such as The Insider and Kholod, have moved into the space where RFE/RL, the BBC Russian service and Deutsche Welle used to exist quietly.
What do you think will happen if the media in exile loses its Russian audience?
I assume that 2022 and possibly 2023 was their heyday. Then the decline begins, as was the case with previous emigrant media, adjusting for the current technological and financial capabilities of these entities.
We are already seeing media outlets in exile attacking each other, and I remember Michael Nacke’s tweet where he pointed out some mistakes of Meduza and said he hoped that no one would give them any more grants.
Meanwhile, TV Rain, Meduza and a number of relatively new media whose voices were heard only after the war, such as The Insider and Kholod, have moved into the space where RFE/RL, the BBC Russian service and Deutsche Welle used to exist quietly.
What do you think will happen if the media in exile loses its Russian audience?
I assume that 2022 and possibly 2023 was their heyday. Then the decline begins, as was the case with previous emigrant media, adjusting for the current technological and financial capabilities of these entities.
We are already seeing media outlets in exile attacking each other, and I remember Michael Nacke’s tweet where he pointed out some mistakes of Meduza and said he hoped that no one would give them any more grants.
“The conclusion is clear that there are not enough resources for everyone and the struggle for them will only intensify. And we will see yesterday’s friends and colleagues, like passengers on the Titanic, starting to fight.”
Accordingly, the strongest will survive.
Is there a future for journalism inside Russia? The fact that people who do not support the war have to write and say “special military operation” and “foreign agent Oleg Kashin” — at what point is it no longer worth it?
Having worked for Rebublic until spring 2022, I also had to point out “banned organizations” and “foreign agents.” Obviously, it was annoying and humiliating, but not enough for me to slam the door and shout “damn you!” It’s an OK price to pay, sometimes you have to pay more. So I am not going to denounce people who write “special operation.”
As for the question about their future, I am generally much more optimistic.
Whereas we in exile are destined to degrade, stew in our bubbles, cocoon ourselves and lose comrades along the way, in Russia those who do not definitively sink into the Z-swamp – and I believe there will be many such people – will get to build new independent media with any loosening of the Putin screws.
Is there a future for journalism inside Russia? The fact that people who do not support the war have to write and say “special military operation” and “foreign agent Oleg Kashin” — at what point is it no longer worth it?
Having worked for Rebublic until spring 2022, I also had to point out “banned organizations” and “foreign agents.” Obviously, it was annoying and humiliating, but not enough for me to slam the door and shout “damn you!” It’s an OK price to pay, sometimes you have to pay more. So I am not going to denounce people who write “special operation.”
As for the question about their future, I am generally much more optimistic.
Whereas we in exile are destined to degrade, stew in our bubbles, cocoon ourselves and lose comrades along the way, in Russia those who do not definitively sink into the Z-swamp – and I believe there will be many such people – will get to build new independent media with any loosening of the Putin screws.
An antiwar march in Berlin (organized by Yulia Navalnaya, Ilya Yashin and Vladimir Kara-Murza). November 2024.
Source: Wiki Commons
Source: Wiki Commons
Sure, today there are incomparably more professionals in emigration, and thanks to the internet they are well connected to the Russian context. But just imagine a correspondent for Novaya Gazeta Europe returning to Russia tomorrow, who has diligently written all these years about emigrant life, covered the Berlin marches and so on.
Will he be able to compete with Alexander Chernykh [from Kommersant – RP], who spent the last three years of the war on the front line? For me at least, he has been the only trustworthy eyes and ears there all this time.
Whose worldview is more distorted now: those in the domestic or emigrant media?
There are distortions in both.
Will he be able to compete with Alexander Chernykh [from Kommersant – RP], who spent the last three years of the war on the front line? For me at least, he has been the only trustworthy eyes and ears there all this time.
Whose worldview is more distorted now: those in the domestic or emigrant media?
There are distortions in both.
“The people who remain in Russia, the longer they stay, the more they feel the need to prove – first of all to themselves – that generally everything is fine and life goes on, and therefore emigrant alarmism greatly irritates them.”
Meanwhile, if we compare the mood in the emigrant community in the spring-autumn of 2022 with that in the autumn of 2024, then there is now much more apathy and pessimism. And the nonwar stories that have been stirring it up lately also suggest degradation and decline, such as the constant scandals around Mikhail Khodorkovsky and the Anti-Corruption Foundation.
What about young people: is it better for them to leave, if possible, or stay in Russia and use Aesopian language?
I know several journalists living in Russia and working anonymously for emigrant media. It seems like this is the best choice — of course, until the FSB knocks on your door. Otherwise, both choices are worse.
The prewar model of life for state media journalists – who are tied to their jobs by long-term debt and are therefore forced to “eat shit” and whom, with a helping hand from none other than Navalny, have been contemptuously called “mortgagors” (ipotechniki) – is now being reproduced in emigration in a grotesque and parodic form. But there is no talk of apartments; at stake is a residence permit and a salary that allows them to keep from dying of hunger.
Even before the war, when the first emigrant media outlets took this path to the West, I wrote in Republic that if you work for RT in Moscow, you can conceivably walk out and go get a job at another media outlet. But when you are in Prague and your residence permit is tied to your work at Current Time (a Russian-language TV channel created by RFE/RL and Voice of America – RP),then you have a different level of loyalty to your bosses.
Overall, are there many emigrant journalists whom we know who give off the vibe of a free person?
In my view, they are all very cautious on social media with everything that could somehow go against the “correct” ideas of what is good and what is bad. Alas, young people, who perceive any surrounding reality as the norm, are at the greatest risk here.
Do you think there’s a chance that the media in exile that now work for audiences in Russia will reorient themselves and focus on the Russian-speaking diaspora?
What about young people: is it better for them to leave, if possible, or stay in Russia and use Aesopian language?
I know several journalists living in Russia and working anonymously for emigrant media. It seems like this is the best choice — of course, until the FSB knocks on your door. Otherwise, both choices are worse.
The prewar model of life for state media journalists – who are tied to their jobs by long-term debt and are therefore forced to “eat shit” and whom, with a helping hand from none other than Navalny, have been contemptuously called “mortgagors” (ipotechniki) – is now being reproduced in emigration in a grotesque and parodic form. But there is no talk of apartments; at stake is a residence permit and a salary that allows them to keep from dying of hunger.
Even before the war, when the first emigrant media outlets took this path to the West, I wrote in Republic that if you work for RT in Moscow, you can conceivably walk out and go get a job at another media outlet. But when you are in Prague and your residence permit is tied to your work at Current Time (a Russian-language TV channel created by RFE/RL and Voice of America – RP),then you have a different level of loyalty to your bosses.
Overall, are there many emigrant journalists whom we know who give off the vibe of a free person?
In my view, they are all very cautious on social media with everything that could somehow go against the “correct” ideas of what is good and what is bad. Alas, young people, who perceive any surrounding reality as the norm, are at the greatest risk here.
Do you think there’s a chance that the media in exile that now work for audiences in Russia will reorient themselves and focus on the Russian-speaking diaspora?
“As for the diaspora, the millions of Russians who live abroad, I would not view them as an active anti-Putin block.”
Igor Krutoy, a highly popular singer, composer, producer and music promoter. Source: Wiki Commons
I believe that four out of five Russian-speaking residents of European countries, the US and Canada are much more interested an Igor Krutoy anniversary concert than in a scathing article about how the authorities in Orenburg Region are not dealing with a flood.
Flagship emigrant media are possible, but it may well turn out that it is the worldwide network of Channel One. As for the audience of antiwar media, I see a systemic problem here, which I wrote and spoke about a lot even before the war. This is the problem of cliquishness (tusovochnost’), when journalists write for journalists, interview each other, which is what we are doing now, let’s face it.
One time, in Republic, I had an underrated, in my view, manifesto about how if you say some right things, but they are heard only by an audience that already understands them, then this inevitably leads to degradation – both for you and for your audience.
That’s why I considered it important to get out of this cliquish bubble, and I did so on Rossiya-1 TV and Komsomolskaya Pravda radio. I got the opportunity to talk to interlocutors with completely different views, who do not recognize the clique codes, so you constantly have to justify and prove your point of view. And this keeps you sharp and hones your professional skills.
Your readers today, are they in Russia?
YouTube statistics say that most are. Telegram has no statistics and thank God, because I would really like Telegram’s payment mechanics to remain as opaque as possible.
How much do you make on the Kashin Plus [Telegram] channel?
My record number of subscribers was close to 2,000, at EUR 5 per subscription, so do the math. Probably, were it not for [my] “foreign agency” and the criminal case, it would have continued to grow, but after “foreign agency” there was a sharp decline.
Flagship emigrant media are possible, but it may well turn out that it is the worldwide network of Channel One. As for the audience of antiwar media, I see a systemic problem here, which I wrote and spoke about a lot even before the war. This is the problem of cliquishness (tusovochnost’), when journalists write for journalists, interview each other, which is what we are doing now, let’s face it.
One time, in Republic, I had an underrated, in my view, manifesto about how if you say some right things, but they are heard only by an audience that already understands them, then this inevitably leads to degradation – both for you and for your audience.
That’s why I considered it important to get out of this cliquish bubble, and I did so on Rossiya-1 TV and Komsomolskaya Pravda radio. I got the opportunity to talk to interlocutors with completely different views, who do not recognize the clique codes, so you constantly have to justify and prove your point of view. And this keeps you sharp and hones your professional skills.
Your readers today, are they in Russia?
YouTube statistics say that most are. Telegram has no statistics and thank God, because I would really like Telegram’s payment mechanics to remain as opaque as possible.
How much do you make on the Kashin Plus [Telegram] channel?
My record number of subscribers was close to 2,000, at EUR 5 per subscription, so do the math. Probably, were it not for [my] “foreign agency” and the criminal case, it would have continued to grow, but after “foreign agency” there was a sharp decline.
“People are afraid – they are afraid to pay me money. Though this is no violation of even the illegitimate laws in Russia.”
This whole year, subscriptions have been fluctuating around 1,500. I will live, of course, but I would like more.
Do you see a growing gap between those who left Russia and those who stayed – and how big is it? And is it possible to mentally be in the Russian context while living in Georgia, Latvia or the UK?
As someone who lives in the UK and works with the Russian context, I would like to say that you can be engaged in it for as long as you want. But I understand that this story will come to an end, and I see my task only in stretching it out as long as possible. Not until the end of this year, but at least until the end of the decade. As for the gap, there is one, of course.
You have not been to Russia in five years. How do you check whether you are still in touch with reality?
I am not sure whether there are any ways to check, but in general, it’s any feedback [I get]. I try to read the entire chat in my streams; readers and subscribers of the paid [Telegram] channel also have a chat, where I regularly communicate with them. Overall, I try to keep my finger on the pulse, perfectly aware that, unfortunately, between my hand and the pulse there are many buffers.
This ironic image of “neckbeard” (skuf) and “grandpa” that you put on, is it not some disguise that allows you not to notice that, hypothetically speaking, something is wrong?
In many ways, that image was created spontaneously, but this buffoonery, of course, masks the tragic component of things.
What does that consist of?
That the future will have to be built by the people who survive under the heel of Putinism. And we, those who broke away, broke away. And a leaf that has fallen away, even if it is green for now, will turn yellow tomorrow, then brown and then rot.
Do you not see yourself going back and living in Russia?
If you ask me now, then I honestly do not want to go back, because I see a lot of hell in those circles that are now suppressed by Putinism. And when it collapses, they will inevitably bloom, and it will be very unpleasant and even scary. I do not even mean the emigrant opposition, which will try to return, but, for example, everything concerning interethnic relations.
Do you see a growing gap between those who left Russia and those who stayed – and how big is it? And is it possible to mentally be in the Russian context while living in Georgia, Latvia or the UK?
As someone who lives in the UK and works with the Russian context, I would like to say that you can be engaged in it for as long as you want. But I understand that this story will come to an end, and I see my task only in stretching it out as long as possible. Not until the end of this year, but at least until the end of the decade. As for the gap, there is one, of course.
You have not been to Russia in five years. How do you check whether you are still in touch with reality?
I am not sure whether there are any ways to check, but in general, it’s any feedback [I get]. I try to read the entire chat in my streams; readers and subscribers of the paid [Telegram] channel also have a chat, where I regularly communicate with them. Overall, I try to keep my finger on the pulse, perfectly aware that, unfortunately, between my hand and the pulse there are many buffers.
This ironic image of “neckbeard” (skuf) and “grandpa” that you put on, is it not some disguise that allows you not to notice that, hypothetically speaking, something is wrong?
In many ways, that image was created spontaneously, but this buffoonery, of course, masks the tragic component of things.
What does that consist of?
That the future will have to be built by the people who survive under the heel of Putinism. And we, those who broke away, broke away. And a leaf that has fallen away, even if it is green for now, will turn yellow tomorrow, then brown and then rot.
Do you not see yourself going back and living in Russia?
If you ask me now, then I honestly do not want to go back, because I see a lot of hell in those circles that are now suppressed by Putinism. And when it collapses, they will inevitably bloom, and it will be very unpleasant and even scary. I do not even mean the emigrant opposition, which will try to return, but, for example, everything concerning interethnic relations.
Bi-2, a popular rock band formed in 1988. In 2023, the band's members emigrated to Israel. Source: Wiki Commons
I do believe in decolonization as the future of Russia. I cannot say that I am delighted about that, but perhaps there is some inevitability to it. And I also understand that I will never be “one of them,” so to speak, in eyes of a veteran of the “special military operation,” for whom, if he knows about my existence, I am, of course, a pro-Ukraine pundit. And when there is blood involved, an issue has added weight.
The last thing I would want to do is end up in an environment where any random interlocutor might rip his shirt off and say: “I was fighting while you were rooting for Ukrainians in London.”
Do you believe in emigrant culture at all?
I sometimes go to Russian concerts here, and recently I went to a Bi-2 concert. I did not really appreciate them in Russia, but I went here – it was really cool, a big band that can sell out a venue in London. But I also understand that in six months they will come back; why would I go see them again?
This is also about decline. A stadium band needs stadiums, when you have toured all of Russia in two years and recorded a new album during that time. And you tour all of Europe in two months, going to places where there are enough Russians to fill a large hall, and then what?
The last thing I would want to do is end up in an environment where any random interlocutor might rip his shirt off and say: “I was fighting while you were rooting for Ukrainians in London.”
Do you believe in emigrant culture at all?
I sometimes go to Russian concerts here, and recently I went to a Bi-2 concert. I did not really appreciate them in Russia, but I went here – it was really cool, a big band that can sell out a venue in London. But I also understand that in six months they will come back; why would I go see them again?
This is also about decline. A stadium band needs stadiums, when you have toured all of Russia in two years and recorded a new album during that time. And you tour all of Europe in two months, going to places where there are enough Russians to fill a large hall, and then what?
“It seems to me that for emigrant culture, real success would be assimilation, like Nabokov. Or Kirill Serebrennikov.”
Is dialogue possible today between those who are for the war and those who are against it?
That dialogue is inevitable, and I see disappointment on both sides as the optimistic scenario for this future conversation to start. I can easily imagine someone who was marinated in the most toxic stuff of the emigrant environment jumping out of it in horror, wrapping himself in a Russian flag and saying: “I am a Zetnik.”
Well, there is no shortage of disappointed Zetniks even now, though when they become disappointed, they most often go into radical fascism. Overall, I am betting on mutual disappointment in their platforms, which, of course, will happen at different speeds, but it can lead us to some unifying end point.
But they are disappointed in completely different things – when a Westernized Russian becomes disappointed in liberalism, he will most likely move to the left, while a Zetnik will swing back to the right.
The point here is not in which direction they will swing, but that some hawks, when they think about why the war, in fact, did not work out, may come to the conclusion that the war was in vain. And if it was in vain, then perhaps their opponents from the anti-Putin camp were not so wrong? And the other side, in turn, will begin to think that maybe, indeed, we thought little about the Motherland and our people? And toward this point, for example, they will move and converge.
That dialogue is inevitable, and I see disappointment on both sides as the optimistic scenario for this future conversation to start. I can easily imagine someone who was marinated in the most toxic stuff of the emigrant environment jumping out of it in horror, wrapping himself in a Russian flag and saying: “I am a Zetnik.”
Well, there is no shortage of disappointed Zetniks even now, though when they become disappointed, they most often go into radical fascism. Overall, I am betting on mutual disappointment in their platforms, which, of course, will happen at different speeds, but it can lead us to some unifying end point.
But they are disappointed in completely different things – when a Westernized Russian becomes disappointed in liberalism, he will most likely move to the left, while a Zetnik will swing back to the right.
The point here is not in which direction they will swing, but that some hawks, when they think about why the war, in fact, did not work out, may come to the conclusion that the war was in vain. And if it was in vain, then perhaps their opponents from the anti-Putin camp were not so wrong? And the other side, in turn, will begin to think that maybe, indeed, we thought little about the Motherland and our people? And toward this point, for example, they will move and converge.
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