As I was touching down this afternoon on a flight from Copenhagen to London, I was informed that my name was included on the Russian Foreign Ministry’s latest counter-sanctions list. This means that I am no longer able to travel to Russia for research, tourism or any other purpose.
My reaction to this news was conflicted. On the one hand, I viewed it as a badge of honour. Since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, I have written two books and done countless media hits on the war’s devastating impact on the Ukrainian people and international security. It was heartening to be included in a list alongside my distinguished Rusi colleague Tom Keatinge, who is a leading voice in support of smarter sanctions against Russia, and many other commentators whose work I admire.
On the other hand, it was a bittersweet feeling. In the years leading up to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, I was a regular visitor to Moscow and St. Petersburg. I cherished Russia’s spectacular art museums, scenic beauty and extraordinary history. I also used my visits to engage with Russian experts, officials and fellow graduate students.
My aim was to better understand Russia’s socioeconomic, political and foreign policy changes, so I could produce enriching publications and provide accurate advice to Western governments. Even though there were many issues of profound disagreement, which spanned from interpretations of Soviet history to the wars in Ukraine and Syria, I hoped that my engagements would contribute in a very small way to a more peaceful future. Russia’s war against Ukraine and the accompanying total breakdown of Russia-West relations were worst-case scenarios that I was desperately hoping to prevent.
Aside from my mixed personal feelings, I cannot help but cringe at the dystopia that Putin’s Russia has become. The grounds for sanctioning British academics, consultants and journalists were phrased in a uniquely ludicrous manner. We were accused of promoting militant Russophobia, supporting Neo-Nazism in Ukraine and enabling Western neo-colonialism in the Global South. As a person with Russian-Jewish and Indian ancestry, I could not help but laugh at the seemingly endless slew of unintended ironies.
Nonetheless, the humour wore off quickly. Russia’s newest sanctions list reflects a society that is pursuing an inexorable course of self-isolation. While the Russian state claims that it is protecting its compatriots from alien values and subversive influences, the Russian people stand to lose the most from the Kremlin’s power-driven self-quarantine.
Russia has forced some of its most talented cosmopolitan intellectuals into exile and imprisoned many of those who courageously chose to stay. Each day, the Kremlin is finding new insidious ways to close off Russians from the outside world. Russia is cracking down on messaging apps like WhatsApp and Telegram, which are now linked to fraud and terrorism, and is planning new acts of gratuitous repression like the criminalisation of “inappropriate” Internet searches.
As President Donald Trump tries to cajole Russia into accepting peace in Ukraine and offers it a window of opportunity to escape from sanctions, the Kremlin keeps steering Russia towards a darker totalitarian future. The text of Russia’s sanctions list provides a window into the irrationalities and paranoias that make a lasting peace in Europe impossible if Putin and the system he’s created endure.
When Russian dissident Vladimir Kara-Murza’s FSB escort taunted him that he would never see his motherland again, he quipped, “Look man, I am a historian, I don’t just think, I don’t just believe, I know that I’ll be back home in Russia, and it’s going to happen much sooner than you can imagine”.
I too hope to one day return to Russia that lives at peace with its neighbours and accepts a basic modicum of human freedom. Today, that moment feels unnervingly far away.
As I was touching down this afternoon on a flight from Copenhagen to London, I was informed that my name was included on the Russian Foreign Ministry’s latest counter-sanctions list. This means that I am no longer able to travel to Russia for research, tourism or any other purpose.
My reaction to this news was conflicted. On the one hand, I viewed it as a badge of honour. Since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, I have written two books and done countless media hits on the war’s devastating impact on the Ukrainian people and international security. It was heartening to be included in a list alongside my distinguished Rusi colleague Tom Keatinge, who is a leading voice in support of smarter sanctions against Russia, and many other commentators whose work I admire.
On the other hand, it was a bittersweet feeling. In the years leading up to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, I was a regular visitor to Moscow and St. Petersburg. I cherished Russia’s spectacular art museums, scenic beauty and extraordinary history. I also used my visits to engage with Russian experts, officials and fellow graduate students.
My aim was to better understand Russia’s socioeconomic, political and foreign policy changes, so I could produce enriching publications and provide accurate advice to Western governments. Even though there were many issues of profound disagreement, which spanned from interpretations of Soviet history to the wars in Ukraine and Syria, I hoped that my engagements would contribute in a very small way to a more peaceful future. Russia’s war against Ukraine and the accompanying total breakdown of Russia-West relations were worst-case scenarios that I was desperately hoping to prevent.
Aside from my mixed personal feelings, I cannot help but cringe at the dystopia that Putin’s Russia has become. The grounds for sanctioning British academics, consultants and journalists were phrased in a uniquely ludicrous manner. We were accused of promoting militant Russophobia, supporting Neo-Nazism in Ukraine and enabling Western neo-colonialism in the Global South. As a person with Russian-Jewish and Indian ancestry, I could not help but laugh at the seemingly endless slew of unintended ironies.
Nonetheless, the humour wore off quickly. Russia’s newest sanctions list reflects a society that is pursuing an inexorable course of self-isolation. While the Russian state claims that it is protecting its compatriots from alien values and subversive influences, the Russian people stand to lose the most from the Kremlin’s power-driven self-quarantine.
Russia has forced some of its most talented cosmopolitan intellectuals into exile and imprisoned many of those who courageously chose to stay. Each day, the Kremlin is finding new insidious ways to close off Russians from the outside world. Russia is cracking down on messaging apps like WhatsApp and Telegram, which are now linked to fraud and terrorism, and is planning new acts of gratuitous repression like the criminalisation of “inappropriate” Internet searches.
As President Donald Trump tries to cajole Russia into accepting peace in Ukraine and offers it a window of opportunity to escape from sanctions, the Kremlin keeps steering Russia towards a darker totalitarian future. The text of Russia’s sanctions list provides a window into the irrationalities and paranoias that make a lasting peace in Europe impossible if Putin and the system he’s created endure.
When Russian dissident Vladimir Kara-Murza’s FSB escort taunted him that he would never see his motherland again, he quipped, “Look man, I am a historian, I don’t just think, I don’t just believe, I know that I’ll be back home in Russia, and it’s going to happen much sooner than you can imagine”.
I too hope to one day return to Russia that lives at peace with its neighbours and accepts a basic modicum of human freedom. Today, that moment feels unnervingly far away.