Navalny's supporters bring him flowers and demand justice: "It's inhumane."

MoscowAt the gates of Borisovskoye Cemetery in southeast Moscow, the two Russias of the future gathered on the second anniversary of the death of Alexei Navalny, the dissident whose name Vladimir Putin never uttered while he was alive. Carrying bouquets of flowers, dozens of young people queued to enter the grounds, determined to pay tribute to their political idol, despite the snowstorm and temperatures below -10°C. Standing by the entrance gate, half a dozen other very young people, their eyes uncovered, filmed and photographed all those attending the commemoration.

Navalny's supporters were not surprised by the conclusion reached by five European governments that The opposition leader was assassinated with a toxin from poisonous frogs in South America. But they are heartbroken. "It's inhumane, I don't know what else to add," says Sénia on ARA, while three individuals rush towards us and point their cell phones at our faces, clearly trying to intimidate us, unmoved by our complaints. Beside him, Liza, frightened, says in a low voice that what Navalny suffered is "unacceptable," and that it is "a cruelty to anyone, good or bad."

Aleksei Navalny's mother, Lyudmila Navalnaya, was among the first to arrive at the cemetery. Accompanied by her daughter-in-law's mother, Yulia Navalnaya's mother, she laid a bouquet of red flowers on her son's grave. "This confirms what we knew from the beginning: that our son didn't simply die in the penal colony, but that he was murdered," she said. According to her, it is only a matter of time before those responsible are identified. "We want this investigation to take place in our country, for justice to prevail, and for us to know all their names. Everyone knows who ordered it," he concluded.

In a society where demonstrations are banned, laying flowers at a cemetery is practically the only collective act of protest tolerated by the authorities. However, the presence of Rosgvardia agents—a militarized body that reports directly to Putin—guarding the cemetery demonstrates that Navalny is a threatening figure to the Kremlin even in death. In fact, his name is still on the list of terrorists and extremists, and any connection to him or his foundation is liable to be considered a crime.

The Kremlin denies the accusations

The Russian government has succinctly dismissed European analyses that implicate it in Navalny's death. "Naturally, we do not accept these accusations. We disagree. We consider them unfounded and biased, and therefore we completely reject them," stated spokesman Dmitry Peskov. This reaction comes after two days of silence from Putin's inner circle. The Kremlin had delegated the response to the Western reports to Russian diplomacy. The Russian embassy in the UK called them "necropropaganda" and an "outrage to the dead," and criticized European countries for attempting to incite "anti-Russian fervor" with "fabricated" and "unsubstantiated" pretexts. The regime's press has published nothing more than the official denial, and the news has been entirely absent from state television for the past three days.

Despite Moscow's efforts to downplay the impact of the new information, representatives from several European diplomatic missions have visited the cemetery, including envoys from Spain, Germany, Italy, Poland, and Latvia. "We didn't even expect the courage of other countries' leaders [to publish the results proving the poisoning], we received it positively," says Inna, who tries not to miss any of Navalny's memorial events. "They film everyone here, but people still come. And yet, the leaders of countries that are far away, that don't face any threat, are afraid for some reason," she laments. "There's clearly outrage, but that won't bring him back to life."

For her, as for the rest of the deceased politician's supporters, days like this Monday serve as a chance to abandon, for a few hours, the internal exile to which they have resigned themselves and to recognize one another.

At the foot of the grave, a row of smiling yellow rubber duckies lends a childlike air to the tribute-protest. This element became a symbol of denouncing Russian government corruption when, ten years ago, Navalny's team revealed that former President Dmitry Medvedev had a house just for ducks at his luxury mansion. Around the grave, covered in flowers and snow, people spontaneously sing a song from the Soviet animated film. The Bremen Town MusiciansA song of hope, innocent and transgenerational: "Those who have friends / are not afraid of hardship. / For us, all paths are dear. / We will not forget our calling: / we bring laughter and joy to the people! / The seductive trappings of palaces / will never replace freedom."