It is eight in the morning and with the first rays of sun, hundreds of people are arriving by bus at Maroseika Street, one kilometer from the Kremlin, to go about their daily chores. The mouth of the subway expels many more and the traffic begins to intensify. As in almost all of Moscow, on the outside, daily life seems unrelated to the worst armed conflict in Europe since the Second World War. Except for the name of the street, there are few things here that are reminiscent of Ukraine.
The name Maroseika is a syncopation of the original but longer word maloroseika, which referred to Málorosiya (Little Russia), the territory similar to present-day Ukraine that was incorporated into the Russian Empire in the 17th century.
“That's too far away, and we can't stop living our lives. In addition, it is an issue that the Government has to resolve, ”says a young woman who, for obvious reasons, prefers not to give her name and whom we will call K ..
J., a middle-aged man, compares the current situation to the wars in Chechnya. “There were terrorist attacks in the subway, in the building next door. One day we went to buy tickets for the cinema, but there was a bomb warning. In the portals, they began to place electronic locks and access codes, when before the doors were always open. We were in tension, that war did reach Moscow. But what is happening in Ukraine, no”, he explains.
The letter "Z", which at the beginning of the conflict spread as a symbol of Russian patriotism, is now difficult to find in the Russian capital. You do see posters with the faces of soldiers, their names and ranks, accompanied by the legend "Glory to the heroes of Russia."
Life, for the majority, continues its course apart from the bloody battles and the thousands of deaths. “Society has tended to distance itself, to isolate itself from what was happening in Ukraine. People stopped following the news, stopped talking to their friends about the situation. Since most were not affected, why worry, ”explains sociologist Denís Vólkov, director of the Levada Center, by phone.
Despite the absence of Hollywood movies, theaters are still open. The theaters work. There are concerts. Shopping malls are full and streets like Maroseika are bustling. But "that does not mean that the war does not affect ordinary people," says Oleg Orlov, a member of the historic human rights NGO Memorial, liquidated in 2021 by Russian justice and awarded the Nobel Peace Prize this year. "There are a large number of people whom the war has notably influenced," he tells La Vanguardia.
And it is that in this conflict, the procession goes inside. Both he and Volkov point out that the turning point was the partial military mobilization decreed in September by Russian President Vladimir Putin. “The mobilization has shown that completely isolating yourself is impossible. People realized that this can reach everyone,” says Volkov.
From the opposition, Alexánder Gnezdílov, a member of the leadership of the liberal Yábloko party, points out that one should not trust either the general impression of the city or the polls that give overwhelming support to power. "People are afraid to talk to sociologists," he says by email. “We don't know the exact figures, but the climate in society has changed a lot since the mobilization. Putin's statements in March that the military operation would be exclusively a matter for professional military men were lies,” he notes.
Gnezdílov assures that “for many, the conflict was only the barbaric images on television”. But with the mobilization, "normal everyday life ended." Hundreds of thousands of Russians fled their country to avoid conscription to fight in Ukraine.
According to surveys by the Levada Center, "the general mood worsened to a point we had not seen in 30 years." After the mobilization, this process of social adaptation is returning. “It was seen that they had not recruited everyone and those who had been called by mistake returned. So the people accepted it, although with much less support than the special military operation in general, ”he specifies.
Another of the Moscow neighborhoods where Ukraine has always been present is Dorogomílovo. Here is the Kyiv railway station. From it begins the Ukrainian boulevard, which has a sculpture by the writer Lesya Ukraínka. The boulevard leads to the Ukraine Hotel, one of the seven Stalinist towers in Moscow, on whose side stands a monument to Taras Shevchenko, the founder of modern Ukrainian literature.
Between the station and the boulevard, we find the exclusive Evropeiski shopping center. "I'm scared. The shops, the cafes are full. I had to buy some things, but I had to go out. I couldn't bear it, because while the horrible war continues, people live as if nothing happened. It is a very sad situation”, laments G., retired.
“My son is outside of Russia. And he does not plan to return at the moment. They say that the mobilization has ended, but they can recruit again”, he assures.
Those who are suffering the most from the situation created by the conflict in Ukraine are the activists. On them, the impact has been "much, much stronger," says Orlov. “My own life and the lives of my colleagues have totally changed. We continue to work, but half in secret.” Formally, the ban on Memorial is not related to the conflict, but "it is clear that they did it because it defended public space on the eve of the war," Orlov accuses.
The activist breaks down the effects of the conflict and the repression. “Draconian laws were imposed, which can send you to jail for talking about war. We had never practiced self-censorship, but we started doing it because among my acquaintances and friends there are some in prison. The case of Alexei Górinov (municipal deputy) is well known, who was sentenced to seven years in prison for saying the word war. He's not the only one. Political activists, among others Iliá Yashin or Vladímir Kará-Murzá, are in preventive detention accused of "discrediting the army".
“Because of these new laws that reduce freedom, as an organization we stopped protesting against the war. I went individually to several demonstrations and administrative complaints were filed against me, and I paid very high fines,” says Orlov.
Then there are the staunch defenders of the Kremlin's positions, who do feel the effects of this crisis in their daily lives, but blame it on the West. “I don't like that fashion stores like Zara have closed, that companies are leaving or we have to run out of Coca-Cola. But the most serious are the problems of lack of software. Many professionals have left Russia because it is better to work from outside the country,” says O., an engineering student. “The countries that sanction us do not understand that all this started because we wanted to defend the Russians. That's hurtful,” he assures.
It will be night in Moscow, another day will begin, and the city will continue to be intimately affected. Although try not to be noticed.
