As Moscow’s military operation continues in Ukraine, many politicians and ordinary citizens have noted a growing degree of Russophobia around the world. Back in late February, the country’s Commissioner for Human Rights, Tatiana Moskalkova, claimed that Russian citizens abroad are being attacked because of their nationality or simply because they speak the language.
The Kremlin Press Secretary, Dmitry Peskov, has repeatedly expressed concern about the growing hostility to Russians in Western countries. “Our fellow citizens should be on the alert and exercise appropriate caution. Of course, we expect the authorities of all countries to cease making statements that fertilize the soil for this hatred and Russophobia,” Peskov noted in March.
In April, the director of the Department for Work with Compatriots Abroad, Alexander Nurizade, drew attention to the fact that “Russophobia… is becoming an ideology on which the policy of a number of states is based.” With the support of the authorities, monuments to Soviet soldier-liberators have been demolished and desecrated en masse in Poland, Lithuania, and Bulgaria.
In the Czech Republic, where relations with Russia have not always been easy, representatives of the older generation like to remind Russian tourists who are relaxing at resorts in Karlovy Vary, far from the political realm, how Soviet tanks entered Prague, while forgetting who exactly liberated the world from fascism.
Never-mind the fact that they are in need a history lesson. 1968 was very much a Soviet, not Russian invasion. The troops were ordered into Prague by two Ukrainians (Leonid Brezhnev and Nikolai Podgorny) & were under the authority of another Ukrainian (Andrey Grechko). They were commanded by a Belarusian (Ivan Yakubovsky).
“We moved to Prague 19 years ago,” says Vladimir. “During this time, we’ve put down roots and become almost native. Therefore, I couldn’t imagine that a huge part of my colleagues and, most offensively, friends, would just openly refuse to communicate with me.”
When the Soviet Union collapsed, Vladimir, an ethnic Russian, found himself in Almaty, Kazakhstan, where he met his future wife, Aliya. From there, he moved to the Czech Republic.
Today, Vladimir works as a machinist in Prague and knows the Czech language. He received citizenship a few years ago. “My wife and I don’t discuss politics with anyone. Everyone has their own opinion anyway. And most importantly, I don’t want to jeopardize our children, or risk the life and work we’ve established in a country I consider my second homeland.”
With indignation, he recalls an incident that happened this Spring: “We were walking around Prague with Aliya and saw how three Ukrainians put a Russian guy on his knees and forced him to kiss the Ukrainian flag, saying: ‘Ask forgiveness for your people.’ After that, my wife and I decided not to speak Russian in public. Only at home with each other. However, as an ethnic Kazakh, it is easier for Aliya to avoid suspicion of being connected with Russia.”
There have also been cases of Russians being denied service in restaurants in the Czech Republic. “We rarely eat out, as we like to cook, so we have not personally encountered this, but the manager of a cafe asked our friends to leave when he realized they were Russians. This, of course, is unpleasant,” explains Maria, who moved to the Czech Republic three years ago with her Ukrainian husband.
