The Chasm Between Us: The Myth of the Opposition's Connection to Russia
08 Dec 2025
Photo: EP 2014*
Discussions of "losing touch with the people" have long been the background noise surrounding the Russian opposition in exile. The impossible is expected of it: to be simultaneously visible in Europe and audible in Russia, while remaining in touch with the realities of people living inside the country under repression. Any politician abroad must automatically "prove" their connection with "real Russians." But if we strip away the emotional layer from this demand, an unpleasant question remains: what can honestly be called the connection between the remaining Russians and their "political representatives abroad" today—and do those living inside Russia need this connection?
What the authorities are doing with this topic is crystal clear. The rhetoric about "traitors inspired by the grief of the Motherland"¹ has long been more than just an eccentric opinion, but a persistent official narrative. It's embedded in the statements of deputies, senators, cultural figures, and media personalities who reproduce the old Soviet logic: leaving means betraying the country.²
If we look at Levada Center data on surveys of ordinary Russians, the picture at first glance appears quite stark. In April 2025, 37% of respondents called those leaving "traitors and traitors to the Motherland," 36% believed they "don't believe in Russia's future," and about a third linked their departure with fear of a new mobilization. Positive interpretations—"they want to achieve more" (26%), "they want to secure a future for their children" (18%)—were noticeably less common (April 2025 survey).³ In the March 2024 survey, the proportion of those who saw those leaving as "traitors" and "those who don't believe in Russia" was even higher—43% and 40%, respectively.⁴ But these results can't be interpreted simply as "half the country considers those who left traitors." First, respondents were obviously asked to select multiple answers. This means that the same person could simultaneously select "traitors," "want to achieve more," and "fear mobilization." This is more a set of labels and explanatory frameworks than a fixed position. Second, the word "traitor" itself in such a survey can mean very different things—from a reproducible propaganda cliché to a personal grievance: "They were able to leave, but I wasn't." We don't know what people mean by this term, and we have no right to mechanically turn it into a definitive diagnosis of attitudes toward emigration.
The age distribution is also interesting: yes, among people over 55, the proportion of those who consider those who left traitors is highest (about half), but in the 18-24 and 25-39 age groups, 35-40% also give such answers.⁴ This can no longer be explained solely by the "Soviet background" of older generations. Other mechanisms are apparently at work here—a sense of abandonment, misunderstanding, envy, a feeling that "we've been left here to sort things out on our own." An additional question is raised by the fact that 47% of Putin's supporters call those who left Russia traitors—which is expected—but 19% of those who disapprove of the current government say the same.⁴ What does this really mean? We have far more questions than answers, especially in a situation where any honest feedback from within Russia is risky and often impossible.
Therefore, these data are important as an indication of a general trend—the image of those who left is indeed largely negative and morally charged—but they don't lead to the simple conclusion that "Russians consider the opposition traitors." Rather, they reveal how emotionally charged and contradictory the very topic of departure is being interpreted. Especially when the left arm of the Putin regime—propaganda—does its work, while the right—the repressive apparatus—perpetuates the results. And that's precisely why these figures must be viewed critically.
In other words, we have two groups living under fundamentally different regimes: one operates by a logic of survival and risk avoidance, while the other operates by a logic of long-term planning and adaptation. And both sides exist in conditions where the connection between them is either dangerous or functional.
The Belarusian experience is quite intriguing for comparison. Research on the Belarusian diaspora after the 2020 protests shows that, in a situation where open politics within the country became impossible, it was the emigration that effectively assumed the role of organized opposition⁵. The diaspora simultaneously continued resistance to the regime, built structures of political representation, and attempted to formulate a programmatic alternative for a future Belarus. To this end, they used street protests abroad, new media, and institutions like Tikhanovskaya's office, the Coordination Council, and the National Anti-Crisis Management Agency. The Belarusian case is often cited as an example of how "connections are possible": people within protested, while those without created a political infrastructure. But even there, the connection was not symmetrical. Within the country, protests were eventually crushed by repression, while the diaspora, having gained political clout, found itself faced with new dilemmas—not only how to fight the regime, but also how to build their lives in the new reality.
The Russian situation is even more fragmented. On the one hand, some émigrés sustain consistent political engagement in exile: they assist civil initiatives and NGOs, maintain independent media channels that keep information flowing into Russia, and advocate for political prisoners or persecuted activists. On the other hand, we also hear voices like Yevgeny Chichvarkin's, who publicly distanced himself from the opposition “until the squabbles are over,”⁶ or Boris Zimin’s more categorical assessment after years of funding the Anti-Corruption Foundation: “The significance of the opposition in exile is minimal, if not zero.”⁷
And what, in principle, does "connection" mean in the Russian context? Connection isn't a single feeling or a single action, but a complex of relationships that maintains groups of people in a state of mutual relevance. It encompasses shared frameworks of perception and shared experience, a sense of solidarity and mutual "visibility," a feeling that "we are part of the same history," communication channels and an infrastructure of interaction, representation and mutual legitimation—connection is the ability of one group to represent another and act in its interests. Each of these elements in relations between Russians in Russia and abroad is either unrealized or exists with reservations.
For political émigrés, connection isn't about "warm feelings for Russia," but about legitimacy, resources, and one's own role in history. In exile politics, connection with "people inside" is the main argument vis-à-vis Western partners. European diplomats and foundations regularly make it clear that they would find it easier to deal with a clearly understood structure⁸ that "represents Russians," similar to Tikhanovskaya's office for Belarusians. Instead, there are several competing centers, each trying to prove that it has a "true audience" and "real influence within Russia."
Within the émigré community, connections are also a tool in the struggle for resources. Scandals surrounding the FBK, the Free Russia Foundation, Khodorkovsky, Katz, and others demonstrate how closely the question of "who speaks for Russians" is linked to the question of "who gets money and attention." In this logic, connections are measured in numbers: views, subscribers, reach, "letters from Russia." A politician who fails to prove that "the people are behind them" quickly becomes an ordinary blogger.
Finally, connections are a way to preserve one's identity as the opposition. As long as the narrative "we work for those who remain inside" persists, both political self-identification and the conflict over the status of the "main opposition force" are justified. When it is said that the importance of the exiled opposition to the war and the stability of the regime is "very, very little," it is perceived painfully precisely because it undermines this pillar of support. For those remaining in Russia, the demand for connection is structured differently and far more prosaic. Interviews with activists⁸ consistently reveal a consistent theme: people don't need "a voice for them," but rather a sense of not being abandoned, and concrete assistance—evacuation, lawyers, money for food parcels. When they see conflicts and mutual attacks among the opposition, the reaction is simply: "These people won't help us; we'll have to find our way out ourselves."
At the same time, those who remain increasingly speak of a gap in experience. The slogan "You don't even represent us,"⁸ once addressed to the authorities, is now increasingly applicable to political emigration: opinion leaders who have "gone abroad," living in European comfort and speaking to the European Parliament, are objectively beginning to see the world differently than those living under criminal risk. Lev Shlosberg takes this thesis to its extreme: from abroad, he says, it's impossible to "fully experience the country," and electronic communication is merely "ersatz impressions."
The bottom line is two different needs. Emigrants need communication as proof of political significance and as a channel to Western resources. Those who remain, at best, need limited, discreet, and safe communication. Anything beyond this and requiring activity, loyalty, or public response from people within Russia almost automatically turns not into communication, but into a colossal, one-sided risk.
2. Bäcker, Roman and Daria Krasovskaia. “Russian Ruling Elite on Emigrants – Between Pragmatism and Dreams.” Russian Politics (forthcoming)
3. https://www.levada.ru/2025/05/27/emigratsionnye-nastroeniya-i-otnoshenie-k-uehavshim-aprel-2025/
4. https://www.levada.ru/2024/04/11/emigratsionnye-nastroeniya-i-otnoshenie-k-uehavshim-mart-2024-goda/
5. Jaroszewicz, Monika, Magdalena Lesińska, and Katarzyna Homel. “The Rise of a New Transnational Political Nation: The Belarusian Diaspora and Its Leaders after the 2020 Protests.” Rocznik Instytutu Europy Środkowo-Wschodniej 20, no. 1 (2022): 35–56.
6. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=003_8gBbpO8
7. https://meduza.io/feature/2024/09/20/znachenie-oppozitsii-v-emigratsii-minimalno-esli-ne-ravno-nulyu
8. https://meduza.io/feature/2025/02/12/vy-nas-dazhe-ne-predstavlyaete