Since the Russian attack on Ukraine, many of my compatriots have been shocked when Ukraine is compared or even equated with Russia or Belarus. That was also the case when the 2022 Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to lawyer Ales Byalyatsky (Belarus), human rights organizations Memorial (Russia) and Center for Civil Liberties (Ukraine). All were honored for their years of struggle against the violation of civil rights. Nevertheless, many Ukrainians no longer differentiate here. It is clear to them who is the aggressor and who is the victim. They also include Belarus in the former, because attacks against Ukraine are allegedly controlled from here.
This is also the reason why we Ukrainians are so wary of regime critics from Russia and Belarus. Their position is often in doubt for us. Alexei Navalny, for example, while not supporting the war against Ukraine, has said that Crimea is de facto part of Russia. Such statements do not exactly strengthen our trust in critics of the regime.
Nevertheless, I decided to attend a reading by the Belarusian author Sasha Filipenko in the Pullach library. He is a well-known critic of Belarusian President Alexander Lukashenko and also of Putin. Filipenko lives in exile in Switzerland. I was curious about his thoughts.
Journalist and author Sasha Filipenko (right) attended the opening event of Lit.Cologne in March 2022 with Navid Kermani, Sasha Marianna Salzmann and Deniz Yücel (from left), which started with an event in solidarity with Ukraine.
(Photo: Oliver Berg/dpa)
Filipenko presented his new book “Kremulator”, which has also been published in German. The historical novel tells the story of Pyotr Nesterenko, the director of the first Moscow crematorium. During the Stalinist terror, Nesterenko burned the bodies of those sentenced to death. He was later arrested himself for alleged espionage. The novel is based on Filipenko’s trial files, so very close to what happened at the time. In his book, Filipenko describes life in a dictatorship and the futility of war.
What really hit me to the core wasn’t the reading itself, but the conversation with the author. I noticed many similarities. As a journalist in exile, I also have the feeling that I miss my country and my city, although, like Filipenko, I “arrived safely,” as my German friends say. But I also worry about my daughter when it comes to her future.
I do not agree with Filipenko’s position that Putin’s war crimes are only possible because Russian society failed to recognize and process the past crimes of the Soviet regime. Enough books have been published about the reprisals during the Soviet era. But it’s more convenient for Russians to ignore what they don’t like.
In contrast to the imperfect democracy in Ukraine, the Russian regime relies on propaganda that misleads people not to voice criticism. In my opinion, this is definitely a consequence of the fear in which Soviet society lived.
What could break this vicious circle is admitting guilt for war crimes. I’m not sure if Russian society can do that. Filipenko, however, is firmly convinced of it.
Emiliia Dieniezhna, 34, fled from Kiev to Pullach near Munich with her then four-year-old daughter Ewa. She works voluntarily for the non-governmental organization NAKO, which aims to fight corruption in Ukraine. She also teaches German to Ukrainian refugee children. Once a week she writes a column for the SZ about her view from Munich on the events in her home country.