Am I to blame for this war?

No, I am not to blame. I see no guilt, I feel none.

I’m told that a true Russian should repent for all the crimes committed by Russia against Ukraine. But I don’t feel any guilt, and here are my arguments.

My entire being is against war, murder, and treachery. To avoid becoming a killer, I had to leave and rebuild my life from scratch. Starting over when you already have something to leave behind is difficult. When you no longer have the same strength as in your youth, when you have someone and something to drag from Russia to here – it is difficult and expensive. Now I live in constant fear of running out of money, being expelled from the country, or my parents falling ill there while I’m here.

All these things can only be described as “inconveniences” compared to the suffering of Ukrainians who have literaly lost their loved ones and homes, or those who have lost a life itself that could have been long and happy.

Yes, my country is guilty. But am I guilty as well?

Do I have any connection to the fact that my country is ruled by a monstrous criminal organized group made up of security forces, chekists, military personnel, thief-oligarchs, and killers? Was there ever a time when I could have had access and influence over the government? Anyone who claims that I could have, based on the Ukrainian experience of Maidan, deeply misunderstands how my country is structured and greatly overestimates the current government in Ukraine or any other country they consider democratic. Politics is dirty, but in Russia politics is crime. My earliest childhood memories of understanding politics were during Yeltsin’s second pre-election campaign. Suddenly, I saw a dirty, crudely designed campaign on all central channels, supporting the alcoholic Yeltsin. I still remember his contortions on some stage with musicians and the feeling of disgust at how dirty and unfair it was. In my memory were my parents’ words about useless vouchers, about the theft of savings, about criminal privatization. So there, before my eyes, thieves who had taken control of the television channels paid tribute to their benefactor.

What could I have done back then? I was young and couldn’t vote. If I could, I would have voted for Yabloko party. But then, I was taught a lesson: it doesn’t matter how people vote; what matters is how those votes are counted. The vote-counting process is completely opaque, there are no observers, the vote-counting software is not controlled, and the results can be manipulated as the ruling party pleases. That was my first lesson. The criminal-alcoholic babbled on the stage, the TV channels lied, the electoral commission counted the votes as required, and people didn’t care enough – no one took to the streets to protest. In addition to this, was that infamous Yabloko party the one worth voting for? Pompous windbags who didn’t take any serious action and only constantly were talking on TV. Is that what the winning opposition should be like in elections?

Next came lesson number two – Putin was appointed as Prime Minister. An even dirtier move than I saw with dancing Yeltsin. Everyone around me understood that he was appointed to become the President. I, too, grasped this idea right after the adults. Then Yeltsin resigned on New Year’s president speech – it was an another dirty move to make Putin the President. I was confident that everyone saw it the way I and my family did. And explosions in apartment buildings and the Chechen war for the sake of boosting ratings – I was sure everyone understood that. I was convinced that people wouldn’t vote for a murderer and a thug; it all looked too cynical and crude. I didn’t vote for him, but my country did. How could I change or influence anything? I was just entering adulthood, starting university, my first job. I needed to prove that my years of studying and relying on my parents were not in vain. In politics, which is not my profession, I found myself swimming against the tide, a youngling swept away by the current. So, I stopped getting involved in politics and focused on my work. After all, it was at work where I could contribute, promote democracy, and build a new society - at least around my circle.

But even at my proffession, the state ruined everything I tried to do. First, I worked in a scientific institute, wanting to advance science. Yet, the state passed laws that destroyed science and education. Then I moved to the private sector, and there I encountered companies like Gazprom, Rosneft, Yukos - now and then, you would inevitably cross paths with them, because Russia has no other big buisnesses except fossil fiuels. They had plenty of money, but all they knew was how to engage in behind-the-scenes games. They wanted to avoid working, they just needed their chairs. So, I ended up working for them on subcontracting projects. But when I saw how much they stole, cynically – I left that sphere to avoid crossing paths with those thieves. Still, I wanted to do something meaningful for the country. Stupid desire, yes? Maybe. However, wherever it was necessary for the country, there stood the omnipresent state organ. That’s bureaucracy for you, that’s obstacles being thrown in your way, that’s your project being swept under the rug because there’s nothing to steal from it. In short, I did my best at my level to do things well and with integrity. Yet, such initiatives don’t go far in Russia. In Russia, it’s more beneficial doing something unnecessary, superficial, but spending more money so that funds end up in the right pockets. Well, I’m not skilled at working that way, and I couldn’t pass through the narrow gaps. All my initiatives didn’t last long and stopped in someone’s cabinets. To succeed here, you need to be quirky, while I’m as straightforward as a rail. Am I to blame? I highly doubt it. I tried to put everything I had on the bright side.

Could I have protested or become a politician myself? No, I couldn’t. I’m not a politician, I can’t read people, and I don’t like or know how to lie. Besides, protests lead to nothing here. People don’t have weapons, and at most, 20,000 people participate in protests while facing 1.5 million National Guard, FSB, FSO, and Police armed with batons, bulletproof vests, and guns. So, how can I join a protest? To leave my family without me, without an income, while I rot in a damp cell?

Then there were protests on Bolotnaya Square and the annexation of Crimea. I realized that I would have to leave Russia. The country was going downhill. But where to go and how? Easier said than done. I started improving my foreign language skills. However, those who have tried to leave know that it’s not as easy as it seems, especially when you have a family. After Crimea, they sent criminals with weapons to Donbass. That’s when something clicked in my mind. I made a decision. I’m leaving. At least I won’t be paying taxes to the Russo-fascist regime.

Then came those eight years when I couldn’t leave anywhere. My children were sick, it was tough. Emigrating turned out to be easy only on paper. Those YouTube bloggers, seeking views, make it sound easy, but they’re all lying. Where was I during those eight years? It’s like I was in a fog. Earning a living, taking the children to doctors, sleepless nights, learning English.

The 24 February came. I found out that Russia attacked Ukraine. Not some self-proclaimed republics, but a real attack. What can I say about that day… There were tears, pain, shock, and arguments with my family. And shame. Burning, burning shame. How could you be a citizen of a country that decided that people in a neighboring country don’t deserve to live and should be killed? People told me it was heading this way, it was predictable. That Ukraine was eager to join NATO. For me, it wasn’t predictable. How can you predict that Russians, whose motto was “just let there be no war”, would suddenly become a nation of fascists? Did you know, did you foresee it? If you did, I don’t know how you had been living with that knowledge.

I packed my suitcase and left. Into the unknown and without preparation. Neither America, nor the European Union, nor Canada, nor Australia wanted to accept me. I know the language, I have a profession, an education. But they don’t need middle-aged men. They either want someone younger without children or someone with a lot of money. People like me aren’t really needed. Sometimes I even think that those who participated in this regime, who benefited from the Russian regime, who made a fortune from it, surely don’t have difficulties acquiring foreign citizenship. But people like me have all the difficulties. No one needs Russians without plenty of cash. Neither in Russia nor anywhere else. I see the ignorance and racism in other countries, and it is sad. Well, to cut long story short, I found a country with a very hospitable people, settled down, brought my family over. We’re living. We didn’t attack Putin’s residence on Novo-Ogaryovo with kitchen knives and stones. It’s tempting, but futile. We voted with our feet, so to speak. It was essentially my first political act in my life. My first real vote.

Now, I keep asking myself over and over again – am I to blame for this war? Maybe I am, but only because I lost my own internal battle to my country. Like someone who timidly tried to resist, but was too timid to win.

I deeply respect those who aren’t afraid to draw a picture saying “No to war,” write a post, or lay flowers at Taras Shevchenko’s monument. They go to prison, they lose their families and jobs. But I’m afraid of consiquences. I am not as brave as they are. I’m even afraid to give a like to something on social media. But still, I think, I’m not to blame because I fight the best I can. Even if I am a coward, I have fought within the limits of my cowardice. My children are no longer with the fascists, and I’m not either.

Finally… Forgive me, Ukrainians. I’m only guilty of being born on the other side of the border, where evil emerged and matured. Yet, I’m just like you, who defends freedom, or just like them, who stayed in a fascist country. I am the same as all the ones living in any country. I couldn’t stand up against the organized Putin group; they are more malicious, organized, and toxic than me. What to do now? I don’t know… I will try to live with dignity, and then we’ll see.