The Russians arrested him for alleged espionage, but the West released him. About a man who only has hope for change.
World politics entered the life of the German Moyzhes.
German Moyzhes is a matter of perspective. Is he a spy? For Russia yes, for the West no. Is he a political activist? Yes. Has he come to terms with the power of the state? He had to. Who knows how that fits together. Only one thing is certain: world politics entered Moyzhes’ life. Whether he wanted to or not.
At the end of May, the dual German-Russian citizen was arrested by the Russian secret service, questioned, imprisoned and released two months later in August as part of the largest prisoner exchange since the end of the War Received. It is not clear what happened between them. Moyzhes does not want to comment on this.
However, Moyzhes decided to go public with his story. It is the story of love for a country that threw him out and is now so far out of reach that he is hurt. What do Moyzhes want? New Russian.
“I want a democratic Russia that turns to Europe,” he says. This requires a strong civil society that transforms the country from within. He wanted to strengthen this in Russia. Now he must be watching from afar.
A city, a friend, a bottle of vodka
Moyzhes was born in St Petersburg when the city was still called Leningrad. He grew up with his mother and grandmother, and in 1995 the family moved to Germany thanks to an emigration program for Soviet Jewish citizens. Moyzhes was ten at the time, poverty was great in Russia, and the future seemed to be in the West. And it was true. Moyzhes graduated from high school, studied law, and obtained a German passport. But his home did not let him go.
When Moyzhes talks about his best childhood memories, he talks about a holiday camp in Russia. Campfire, first alcohol, spending the night in the tent with the girls. The moon shone brightly over Russia at that time. After the family emigrated, Moyzhes went back several times, often alone, two days on the bus, the summer holidays at her aunt’s dacha. When he grew up, he became self-employed and from then on he helped people immigrate to and from Russia. He moved back to St. Petersburg, the city he longed for.
Moyzhes is 39 years old and St. Petersburg behind a hard border for him now. It would be too dangerous for him to travel back to Russia. Thus a new beginning in Cologne. But how do you start a new life that you don’t want? Moyzhes visits friends in England, Israel and Switzerland. To calmly understand what happened to him. His Swiss friend encouraged him to tell his story, the friend organized lectures at a high school and several universities in Switzerland, and invited people to his home for interviews.
There is a bottle of Finnish vodka on the dining table; Russian vodka is no longer available due to Western sanctions. 1953 is on the label. “It’s an important year for Russia; Stalin died in 1953,” says Moyzhes. Then he raises his glass to clean glasses: “Other than that I have no strength to speak.” He laughed. At some point, between two glasses, he says: “The war destroyed so much. It’s tearing me apart.” At the end of the evening the bottle will be almost empty.
Moyzhes wants to change perspective
He can only guess why Moyzhes went to prison in May. He campaigned for more bike lanes in St. Petersburg and organized music nights in his apartment where banned artists were also allowed to play. But that’s not the point, he says. Moyzhes is a member of the opposition Yabloko party, he is well connected internationally and has been in and out of embassies. The authorities charged him with treason. “They later agreed with me that I wasn’t quite James Bond,” says Moyzhes. He adds: “They actually said that.”
The “Kölner Stadt-Anzeiger” reported Shortly after the arrest there was speculation that Moyzhes may have been held for a prisoner exchange. Embassy contacts, German passport, Jewish faith, in the business logic of the prison, that’s worth a lot.
The truth is: On August 1, two months after his arrest, Moyzhes was exchanged with fifteen other political prisoners for eight Russian prisoners, including the “Tiergarten murderer” Vadim Krasikov. If you want to do the math, Moyzhes is worth half as much as a Russian. The individual becomes a bargaining chip in this worthless system.
Moyzhes wants to change perspective. “I met people in this system who were humane,” he says. During the weekly questions they offered him coffee and whiskey and treated him with respect. He was in Lefortovo Prison, one of the “most comfortable” prisons in Russia, as he says.
But Moyzhes has also experienced the brutality of the system. Some “traces” remained even after the exchange of prisoners. If you ask what that means, he falls silent: “It was unforgettable, I would say.” Moyzhes plays with his hands. The brutality was only at the beginning. A few minutes later he will say: “Many investigators in the West would do the same thing if they were allowed to do it.” Moyzhes avoids eye contact during conversation and then looks around the room as if looking for something.
Moyzhes story is full of gaps. He avoids questions and cannot get answers from others. Why is he defending the Russian prison system, a system he is used to with all its violence? Moyzhes can’t explain it.
German Moyzhes spent two months in prison in Russia. He says he suffered marks.
He admitted what he was accused of in the interrogation room. Resistance is futile in front of Russian state officials. “If you’re against them, you run the risk of being completely isolated. If you cooperate, they are friendly and you have constant contact with your relatives.” Moyzhes cooperated. And this is what he says about his imprisonment: “It could have been a lot worse.” It is a phrase he repeats over and over during the conversation.
Moyzhes does not want to be a victim. He says he is not afraid. But what should Moyzhes say? The Russian state has built a system in which citizens know only powerlessness. Some of Moyzhes’ family and close friends live in Russia. “Too much talk can be damaging to those who are still there,” he says. Moyzhes speaks carefully. It’s all he can do.
“Current Western politics divides people between West and East,” says Moyzhes. It makes people enemies. In matters of war the fields are clear, Moyzhes criticizes this apparent clarity.
Many sanctions against Russia are not targeted, borders are closed for example. Or the directive that Russians are not allowed to hold foreign credit cards or accounts with more than 100,000 euros. The sanctions apply to the regime’s supporters, its opponents, everyone. This fits Putin’s war propaganda, that the West is acting against Russia, that it wants its interest in Russia’s displeasure.
A historical analogy is making a name for itself in Russia now, says Moyzhes: People had to fight to get permission to leave Russia, but the West hardly lets anyone in. It is again, the impotence of Russia. As an emotion, it sits deep within people.
Perhaps Moyzhes is right in his criticism, but he leaves out the Western perspective. It depended on understanding for years, but the regime in Moscow became even stronger, then the war of aggression against Ukraine came. Moyzhes says: “I don’t know how it works, but we should focus more on friendship.”
The dacha is his place of refuge
He takes a last sip of vodka, then quotes Heinrich Heine: “When I think of Russia at night, I lose sleep.” Moyzhes says “Russia” instead of “Germany”. Heine’s vision of a democratic Germany would only be realized after his death.
Moyzhes believes that Russia can change once it acknowledges its European roots. “I am a European Russian,” says Moyzhes. He also says: “I miss my home.” Drink, eat, discuss in a small house in the countryside. Where only the trees listen to you. The dacha is probably the most Russian place in Russia. Moyzhes wants to go back there.