Too Suspicious Cover
In December of last year, a 23-year-old woman named Kristina (I have changed her name for her safety) was traveling from Estonia to Russia. She was detained at the border. Of course, she was prepared for a search and interrogation, so she had deleted all correspondence with friends and independent media apps in advance, as Russian police tend to scrutinize the phones of those entering the country. However, the woman could not have anticipated that her troubles would arise because of the books she was carrying with her. Among the items in her suitcase was my book "War and Punishment," published in Russian last fall.
A vigilant customs officer named Mikhail Us confiscated the book, claiming that its title was "too suspicious." He made the woman write an explanation: "I was scolded like a five-year-old: 'You are a citizen of your country, do you even understand what you are doing?!'" Kristina recalls the customs officer's reaction.
The paperwork process took about nine hours. The woman was released from the checkpoint late at night, as no signs of any violation were ultimately found in her actions.
Afterward, Mikhail Us sent the book for an expert review to determine whether it posed a threat to the Russian state.
No Violations
The book was sent all the way to Nizhny Novgorod, where it was handed over to three experts. These were an English and mathematics teacher, Lyubov Violentova, a psychologist, Nadezhda Prytkova, and a chemist, Anastasia Seleznyova They appear to be quite young since the report they signed indicated that they had less than a year of work experience.
The main question posed to the experts was whether the book contained signs of extremism or terrorism.
I would pay dearly to see how Lyubov, Nadezhda, and Anastasia read my book and what emotions they experienced. However, I can infer this from the expert review they wrote. The most unexpected conclusion: they clearly liked the book.
They carefully analyzed the book, especially the Introduction, and extensively quoted it in their report. I must say, they selected the most powerful quotes, those that truly impressed them—I couldn't have done better myself.
"To ensure that Russian culture continues to live, we must begin a great work. We must start understanding ourselves and telling the truth about what our past and present are. Russian history, Ukrainian history, and any other history consist of myths. Unfortunately, our myths have led us to the fascism of 2022. It's time to debunk them,” the experts formulate the book's goal, referring to the Introduction.
Further, they fairly dispassionately assess my political position, carefully quoting my arguments each time. “The actions of the Russian authorities outside the territory of Russia are described by the author as aggressive and inconsistent with the goals of protecting the interests of the Russian Federation and its citizens,” they state coldly. “The author considers the annexation of Crimea in 2014 to be violent” and “expresses a negative attitude towards the special military operation in Ukraine.”
The experts were even more impressed by the epilogue, quoting large sections of it:
“We need to stop believing in our own exceptionalism. We need to stop being proud of our vast territory. Enough of thinking that we are superior to everyone else. Enough of imagining ourselves as the center of the world, its conscience, its spirituality. This is all nonsense.
If we look back, we will be horrified: all our ancestors are victims who were convinced that they were victors. They were made to kill, to rejoice in killing, to be proud of killing. And they did it excellently. They were proud—they reveled in it, and they wrote beautiful poems, songs, and books glorifying violence, blood, and the crunch of bones. And they forgot that it was their own blood, their own bones.”
The American paperback cover of War and Punishment
After reading the book, the experts move on to their conclusions. And do you know what those conclusions are? They found no serious violations!
"The book does not contain propaganda of prohibited views, calls for extremist or terrorist actions, nor does it contain any demeaning of individuals or groups based on race, gender, or religion," state Lyubov, Nadezhda, and Anastasia. Moreover, they insist that the book "does not rehabilitate Nazism, does not diminish historical memory, and does not incite enmity or hatred"—all of which are prohibited by Russian Federation laws.
Should I consider that my book convinced the experts? At the very least, I believe they discussed it thoroughly and carefully, as everything they wrote does not appear to be a mechanical and soulless bureaucratic response, but rather a very thoughtful and serious analysis.
After listing all the positive qualities of the book, the experts finally admit that the work, of course, "discredits the Russian army." This would be difficult to deny.
Do you know he’s gay?
If you are not familiar with the peculiarities of the Russian punitive system, let me explain an important detail. These experts have saved thousands of people—those very individuals who carry my books in their luggage. Because if they had deemed the book extremist, all readers would have had to face trial for "dissemination of extremist materials." Now, the worst thing that threatens readers is the confiscation of the book itself. And that’s it.
Nevertheless, every time one of my readers tries to bring "War and Punishment" into Russia, they are detained, and the book is confiscated. Typically, people get scared and don't argue with customs officials, fearing that something worse than confiscation might happen. To date, I know of at least several dozen such cases.
In April, for example, another young woman named Diana was detained at a different border checkpoint. Her book was confiscated, and she was interrogated about me: "Do you know he’s gay? That he condemned the special military operation? That he lives in Germany?" These are the kinds of questions Diana said she was asked by customs officials.
American hardcover edition of War and Punishment
However, this story has a continuation. What happened to this expert review? The report was sent to Pskov, and in February, the transport prosecutor of the Pskov region decided to open a case against me for discrediting the army. The case was sent to court, and what do you think? Judge Artamonov, after reading the expert review, refused to initiate the case.
Soon the prosecutor was dismissed, and the new prosecutor reopened the case and sent it back to court. And once again, the judge refused to initiate the case—this time citing that the defendant, that is, me, had not been informed of the charges.
What happened next? Of course, the prosecutor initiated the case for the third time, and two weeks ago, Judge Bondarenko dismissed it again. This time, she stated that the statute of limitations for the case had expired, and the Pskov court would no longer consider my case.
Overall, this is a fantastic story about how the state machinery functions. How many people in it can unexpectedly make decisions that seem illogical at first glance. Many bureaucratic workers do not want to commit obvious evil acts—they simply sabotage.
This, of course, does not mean that I am acquitted—another infamously notorious court, the Basmanny Court of Moscow, will start a criminal trial against me this week, and I face up to 10 years in prison. There is almost no doubt that the Basmanny Court will accomplish its task.
But at this moment, I am much more pleased with something else: that the experts in Nizhny Novgorod read my book and did not indifferently discard it, writing something their superiors did not expect of them. And then, the Pskov judges, showing inexplicable stubbornness, refused to prosecute me.
I see that the Russian state persistently persecutes me and bans my books. However, I cannot help but be pleased that ordinary Russian bureaucrats seem to sabotage the authoritarian system's decisions whenever they can.
I am certainly not the only Russian writer being prosecuted for my works and whose books are being banned. Dmitry Glukhovsky has been sentenced in absentia, Boris Akunin has been arrested in absentia, and Dmitry Bykov has so far only been fined for discrediting the army. Hundreds of books are being removed from bookstore shelves—they are either burned or simply sent for recycling, we do not know. At all border checkpoints, Russians are searched with fervor, checking what literature they are bringing. And it is evident that not only my books are being confiscated.
The Russian cover of War And Punishment, that seemed too suspicious
This highlights the blatant cynicism of the Russian authorities. Six months ago, near a university in St. Petersburg, a monument was unveiled to Count Uvarov, an infamous 19th-century Russian official and censor who was likely despised by all the great writers of that time, from Pushkin to Tolstoy. This indicates that the Putin administration openly shows that their idols are those who fought against Russian culture and literature, who banned and suppressed it.
There is, however, a well-known phrase attributed to Uvarov's main adversary, great Russian liberal writer Alexander Herzen, who published his magazine "Kolokol" in London and smuggled it into Russia, trying to overcome all possible customs bans. He used to say: "The severity of Russian laws is compensated by the lack of obligation to enforce them."
I read "War and Punishment." As it seeks to tell the truth, it should be viewed as extremely subversive by the Putin regime. For them, there is no statute of limitations.
Very informative on many levels. Thank you.