News of Russian opposition leader Alexei Navalny’s death came on Friday afternoon. In the evening, about a hundred Russians gathered outside the Russian embassy in Stockholm to show their grief. Rasmus Canbäck writes in his column about Alexei Navalny’s importance.
By Rasmus Canbäck February 17, 2024
Pictures by Rasmus Canbäck
The cold winter rain didn’t seem to worry those who made their way to the Russian embassy. A crowd of just over a hundred people found their way to what is now known as Free Ukraine’s place to show their grief at the death of Alexei Navalny.
It was clear that those who had gone there had been taken. Because never have I been to such a quiet demonstration that was simultaneously torn between the feelings of sadness, anger and resignation. The vast majority seemed to be Russians who are against Vladimir Putin’s reign of terror, and who are against the invasion of Ukraine.
During Friday, it was their grief that had to take center stage. It was the sadness that the hope that Alexei Navalny embodied when he returned to Russia four years ago now seems to have been extinguished. I wasn’t prepared for that when I arrived at what would turn out to be a death fair. An obituary that admittedly went from the message “Freedom for Russia” to “Russia shall be free”.
– We owe it to Navalny, someone said.
He added that it’s not so much about Alexei Navalny really – but about a Russia that, after the invasion of Ukraine in 2022, quickly went towards an abyss. The Russian abyss seems sadly bottomless. The huge demonstrations that arose in connection with the invasion of Ukraine proved to be hushed up. The Kremlin knew that. Expressions of freedom must be met with violence.
Who’s next?
About a hundred people came to the demonstration outside the Russian embassy.
Some seem to believe that the assassination of Alexei Navalny is linked to a weakened Russia. If increased violence and ability to curb critics is a sign of weakness, then yes, then Russia is weakened. But that is probably not the first thought that strikes those who have left Russia as the violence has increased.
Shortly after the first news that Alexei Navalny was presumed dead was published, several relatives of other political prisoners in other countries wrote to me. They were noticeably affected. The importance of Alexei Navalny as a symbol, not only for a possibly free Russia, but for the struggle behind bars seemed more important to the relatives than they might have reflected on before. It was when the news of Alexei Navalny’s death came that it dawned on them what a symbol he had been for, if not the world, then at least the political prisoners of the former Soviet states.
I still remember the words that Pussy Riot activist Lusine Djanyan said to me at some point.
– As a Russian activist, I know what solidarity means. When it was at its worst, we could always look down at our phones and be energized by all the outside support. As an Armenian, I know what the word silence means.
There are probably many, from different conflicts, who feel the feeling of silence that Lusine puts into words. Not least among relatives of other political prisoners in countries or in circumstances that have not been given media space or broad solidarity. But for some of them, the case of Alexei Navalny has been a source of hope. The first question that the daughter of the Azerbaijani political prisoner Gubad Ibadoglu asked me after she heard the news “is my father next in line?”.
A similar question was asked by the sister of Karakalpak activist Aqylbak Muratbai, who was arrested by Kazakh police on February fifteenth, with the threat of deportation to Uzbekistan. There awaits an unjust legal process with threats of torture.
Philipp Galtsov gives a speech. He urges everyone to continue the fight in memory of Alexei Navalny.
As much as it was a manifestation, it was a shared moment of mourning.
The more serious question we need to ask is probably whether the limits of authoritarian forces have moved further, especially in the former Soviet states. It is something that Swedish Foreign Minister Tobias Billström raised in his first comment after the news.
“The ruthlessness against Navalny shows the importance of continuing the fight against authoritarianism,” wrote Tobias Billström Twitter.
This is something people living in undemocratic societies have known for ages. Authoritarianism never disappeared after the fall of the Soviet Union. In any case, not without a reasonable struggle to settle it, which the Baltic states have succeeded in doing. In other countries, such as Azerbaijan and Uzbekistan, it has only been replaced by an authoritarianism in symbiosis with the West’s hope that only around the knot will things get better. As soon as trade increases and the education system approaches that of the West, democratization will come.
The leaders of these countries have understood how to speak the cosmopolitan language that appeals to suit-wearing and well-coiffed diplomats in the West. At the same time as more political dissidents are thrown into dark dungeons, countries join international institutions. Smiling, Western leaders praise their authoritarian partners for the progress.
Enough authoritarian states, like Russia, have made or are about to break with cosmopolitanism to build another wall. This time, unlike in 1962, the wall is being built with the help of handshakes and white smiles. So far, the fight against authoritarianism, which Billström talks about, has failed.
That’s what many seemed to understand on Friday night. The need for symbols to be able to fight against autocrats is enormous. In Russia, there was Alexei Navalny.
One speaker, Russian dissident Philipp Galtsov, briefly ended his speech in a way that made one think it was a farewell to more than just one person.
“Rest in peace, Alexei Navalny.”
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By Rasmus Canbäck
