\n<\/p>\n
When Vladimir Putin launched Russia’s large-scale offensive against Ukraine on February 24, 2022, Varvara felt “despair and anger” — and joined an anti-war protest in central Moscow.<\/p>\n
Four years later and amid an unrelenting crackdown on dissent inside Russia, the 32-year-old said she is now simply trying to “survive”, keeping quiet and not daring to criticise the Kremlin or the war.<\/p>\n
She has little hope that will change soon.<\/p>\n
“Any resistance from below will be crushed,” Varvara, who asked for her name to be changed, told AFP in an interview in Moscow.<\/p>\n
It is a snapshot of the resignation with which many anti-war Russians or would-be activists must now live in a country that has been rigidly mobilised to get behind the war.<\/p>\n
Russia has ratcheted up repression at home to levels unseen since the era of the Soviet Union.<\/p>\n
Thousands have been jailed or fined for simply speaking out against the offensive. Public protests against the Kremlin are virtually unheard of.<\/p>\n
All major opposition figures are in jail, exiled or dead and anti-war groups outside the country are hobbled by bitter factional infighting.<\/p>\n
\u2013 ‘Do something good here’ \u2013<\/p>\n
Like thousands of others, Varvara took to the streets at the start of the war, joining rallies that were put down forcefully by Russian riot police.<\/p>\n
“I went there without knowing what’s next,”\u00a0she said.<\/p>\n
“I warned loved ones that I might be arrested, leaving a spare set of keys and hoping my cat wouldn’t starve in my absence.”<\/p>\n
She managed to avoid being caught in the brutal police clampdown.<\/p>\n
But when she signed a petition against the war, she was fired from her job at a public institution.<\/p>\n
Many of her friends — who were briefly detained by police — decided to leave the country.<\/p>\n
But for Varvara, the uncertainty of emigration outweighed the risks of staying.<\/p>\n
“I didn’t feel an immediate physical threat. No one was knocking on my door, I wasn’t jailed or tortured.”<\/p>\n
She eventually found a job at a charity and realised that the only way she could get by was to “do something good here”, in Russia.<\/p>\n
In the summer of 2022, she met her future husband.<\/p>\n
“The only reason to leave would be if one of us was facing arrest,” she said. <\/p>\n
Despite her decision to stop speaking out and commitment to staying inside Russia, the war has completely overshadowed Varvara’s life.<\/p>\n
It was two years before she could feel happy again without a sense of guilt.<\/p>\n
“A friend and I went for a walk. It was summer, we just walked and talked. I realised it was simply a nice day — and I don’t feel guilty about enjoying it,” she told AFP.<\/p>\n
\u2013 ‘Escapism’ \u2013<\/p>\n
Varvara now cares for her husband’s two children from a previous marriage — something she calls “a form of escapism”, and which has reinforced her decision to stay quiet. <\/p>\n
“If I was alone, I wouldn’t be hiding my name. But now I’m a stepmother, part of a complex family structure, and I feel a sense of responsibility,” she said.<\/p>\n
Wanting children of her own, Varvara said she “can no longer afford to take this kind of optional risk” of speaking out.<\/p>\n
Despite her silence, the war still looms large.<\/p>\n
In her charity job, she worries about who to cooperate with and who to take money from given how many people and organisations are now connected with the military campaign.<\/p>\n
“There’s this constant inner struggle: whom can you work with and whom you can’t?” explained the young woman. <\/p>\n
And in her private life, the war has complicated her relationship with her father.<\/p>\n
A member of Russia’s security services, he went to fight in Ukraine and regularly offers her financial help. <\/p>\n
“He’s my father, I love him. But for me, it’s impossible to accept this money,” she told AFP.<\/p>\n
bur\/yad\/jj<\/p>\n<\/div>\n