Christmas letters for Russian political prisoners

Paris"I'm dying to hear from you and I wish you a Merry Christmas in advance (we celebrate Catholic Christmas here, on December 25th). Tomorrow, our Russian teacher will tell us about Orthodox Christmas traditions, and I'm really looking forward to learning more about another culture!" Marine, a 21-year-old sociology student in Paris, sent me a document containing a dozen different letters. These are letters she has sent to Russian and Belarusian political prisoners since September, as part of an initiative by Memorial, the NGO banned in Russia since 2021.

Some of the recipients of the letters have been detained in Russia or Belarus for protesting against the war or supporting Ukrainian forces, although there are also cases of members of religious minorities, human rights activists and Ukrainian civilians who have been captured in areas occupied by the Russian army.

Marine knows that if she writes about politics, war, or Putin, those letters won't reach their intended recipient. "It's important to know that all letters are read by a censor and that it's simply necessary to avoid certain topics," explains Katia Zhdanova, coordinator of Memorial's letters in Paris. The instructions on their website—where they also maintain a public register of prisoners—are specific about everything that doesn't pass censorship: "foreign words, symbols, ciphers, or slogans." "Criticism of the judicial system, LGBTQ+ issues (because they can worsen a detainee's situation), or details about the prisoner's case must be avoided," they add. "I'm so happy to have met you," Marine replies at the beginning of her letter. The conversation flows between everyday anecdotes, jokes, and hobbies. "Here, all the guys are also obsessed with the..." bodybuilding"We can't explain any further."

A breath of hope

Despite the mostly innocuous content of the letters, replies are uncommon, and even less so those in which prisoners express their feelings. However, there are sometimes exceptions. Memorial has allowed ARA to publish the following response from Anna Arkhipova, a Russian student imprisoned since 2023 for participating in a movement that criticized the "special military operation," the official euphemism for the war in Ukraine. Since then, she has been in pretrial detention, accused, among other offenses, of "spreading false information about the Armed Forces." Arkhipova responds to a letter sent from France by a volunteer with the organization:

"Today, our cell awoke completely empty. The sky was gray, a light rain was falling. An atmosphere of discouragement and despair enveloped us. No one could or wanted to do anything. We simply waited for another day of imprisonment to end. And then, a familiar voice: a familiar voice! Dramatically: we smiled, we laughed, and we danced."

The letters are crucial in offering them a window to the outside world, maintaining contact, and even expanding the list of cases based on their messages, according to Memorial. Some are handwritten and transported from Paris to Russia, from where they are sent by mail to circumvent the first filter of censorship, while others are sent electronically.

Marine received a reply via email from a young man. We cannot publish his name for security reasons, nor do we have permission to reproduce his letter. He is a Ukrainian citizen, from the Crimean Tatar Muslim minority, and lives in southern Ukraine, an area occupied by the Russian army. He was sentenced to seven years in prison for making a financial donation to a Ukrainian battalion.

Katia, who left her native Russia ten years ago to settle in France, shares the final response of a prisoner and her story. It is Yulia Koveshnikova, a 47-year-old woman who lived in Melitopol, a Ukrainian city occupied by Russian forces since the beginning of the war. While her family left the region, she stayed, openly expressing her pro-Ukrainian stance on social media and helping to search for missing Ukrainian soldiers. She was arrested in April 2023, and for eight months her family had no information about her. Later, it was learned that she had been held in various basements in the city, her head covered with a bag.

Since learning which prison she's in, Memorial volunteers have been sending her letters constantly. "We sent them for a year, without a single reply. This September, we sent many from France, including some addressed to Yúlia, and that's when the silence was broken: they gave her the letters," explains Katia. The prisoner responded: "These last few days, I've received many letters from France, from different regions. They've given me back the will to dream. I'm writing to you—people I didn't know, who nevertheless want me to return home to my country, to my family, as soon as possible." Thank you all.

Katia says her goal is "to tell them stories of life outside—stories that might seem trivial—but that can provide vital comfort in prison." It's a common activity for dissidents in Russia, and the state—for now—cannot prohibit all communication with the outside world.