Langsam wird der Krieg auch in Moskau sichtbar. Früher wirkten die Ukrainekämpfer, die hier vielleicht auf der Durchreise Station machten, wie Fremdkörper im Hauptstadttreiben, als düstere, etwas verwahrloste Boten von der Front. Dieser Tage führen junge, stolze Soldaten ihre Frauen aus, als spürten sie den sozialen Aufstieg, den Präsident Wladimir Putin ihnen versprochen und sie zur „neuen Elite“ erklärt hat.
Einer dieser jungen Anführer sitzt an einem Sonntag in Uniform auf einer Bank im vor Besuchern übervollen Gorki-Park an einem Teich. Nebenan animiert eine Pfingstrosenschau zu Selfies, es riecht nach Blumen und Sommer. Der Soldat trägt einen kreuzförmigen Orden auf der Brust. Neben ihm sitzt eine junge Frau im altmodischen, bodenlangen Sommerkleid, er erklärt ihr etwas, sein Blick mustert die Umgebung, selbstbewusst, herausfordernd. An großen Straßen und Bushaltestellen blicken weitere Soldaten von Plakaten, werden als Kriegshelden gefeiert.
Doch ringsum feiern Menschen in Zivil sich und den Sommer, als wäre alles ganz normal. Junge rasen auf Elektrorollern und Waveboards umher, Ältere führen Hunde aus. Boten liefern Sushi, Kaffee, Einkäufe aus, und im Stadtteil Chamowniki in einer Schleife des Flusses Moskwa, wo der IT-Konzern Yandex sitzt, übernehmen das auch dessen kleine Roboterfahrzeuge, neben denen man an der Ampel wartet.
Im Krieg sind die Arbeitskräfte knapp
Technisch liegt Moskau längst weit vor westlichen Metropolen. Bar zahlen nur noch Gestrige. Wer Geld hat, nicht zum Militär eingezogen wird – das Risiko ist in der Hauptstadt geringer als andernorts – und natürlich nicht die Politik kritisiert, kann hier immer noch bestens leben, an den lauen Sommerabenden zum Beispiel spanischen oder französischen Weißwein trinken. Der kommt problemlos ins Land, mittlerweile sanktionsbedingt mit Umladung an der Landesgrenze.
Many parents who lived through the Soviet Union are worried about their sons, who could theoretically be called up to the military recruitment office at any time, soon also “electronically” via the online state service profile Gosuslugi. Some have decided to have Jewish, German, Latvian or other roots and have obtained residence permits or passports just in case. They are thinking about how they can get their money abroad, in cash or via accounts in more or less neutral countries such as Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Armenia. Some are convincing their sons to do the same, to protect themselves in case a call-up order comes, a new wave of mobilization or a travel ban.
Dmitrij's parents also talk to him in the same way. But the man in his mid-twenties, whose real name is different, is enjoying his life in Moscow more than ever. The war has made workers scarce, so Dmitrij's production company has increased his salary to keep him. He has no idea about the Russia of prison camps, violence, and war that his parents fear and see rapidly reemerging. Politics has always been like something from another planet for him. The dire predictions of exiled economists, political scientists, and opposition members do not reach people like Dmitrij. “Why should I leave,” he says to his parents, “it's wonderful in Moscow, isn't it?” That's how it is when you ignore what you can't change anyway.
Loot from the West is on display
At the entrance to the “Victory Park”, the one from 1945, the masses are to be politicized in Putin's spirit and sworn in for new victories, now over Ukraine and the West. Since the beginning of May, Western and Ukrainian military equipment captured in Ukraine has been on display here: tanks, howitzers, personnel carriers, grenade launchers, small arms. And the masses are flocking to it. Recently, the Ministry of Defense awarded a man from the city of Penza a certificate as the alleged one millionth visitor. He has allegedly already been on four missions in Putin's “military special operation” or “SWO” in Ukraine and now wanted to show his wife and two sons “what we are dealing with”. The exhibition “Spoils of the Russian Army” has been extended, at least until the end of June.
On a muggy afternoon, dark clouds gather in the west, but visitors come in whole families. Entry is free, only one woman is turned away at the metal detectors at the entrance because of her dog, which is not allowed in. “A nightmare,” the woman sighs. “History repeats itself” is written on a tent that protects an old Marder II from the rain, a self-propelled tank destroyer that, according to the explanatory sign, was captured by the Germans in World War II. Right behind it, without a protective tent, stands a Marder infantry fighting vehicle that was supposedly captured a year ago in the Zaporizhia region of southern Ukraine.
The Russians are supposed to see the current war as a defense against the revenants of the National Socialists, as a continuation of the war that their Soviet Union won 79 years ago. A display board alternates between Russian, English, French and German, stating that the “sponsors of the exhibition” are the USA, Germany, Sweden, Austria, Great Britain, France, Finland and Australia, and that the “main sponsor” is Ukraine. Yes, even Austria is represented here, with the Pinzgauer 712M, a narrow military truck for difficult terrain named after a cow; the booty looks comparatively harmless.
If you ask the visitors here what they feel when they stand in front of the captured German Leopard, the destroyed American Abrams or the Ukrainian T-72 tank, they talk about “pride in our boys” like the older man from Tambov, who has to work in Moscow, or “pride in our homeland” like the younger Muscovite who is showing his two sons the captured Javelin anti-tank weapons. Soon after the 2022 attack, such weapons stopped the Russian assault on Kyiv – which, according to a recent statement by Putin, was not planned as such, but as an “operation to force the Ukrainian regime to make peace”.
Perhaps with consideration for the many children among the visitors, there are pictures of enemy vehicles being destroyed by drones, but no pictures of dead Ukrainian soldiers. The losses of people and equipment are completely irrelevant. Many visitors, mostly men, talk shop with the medal-bedecked soldiers who are on duty in front of the exhibits – for example in front of the Abrams, where a soldier describes the weak points of these tanks – about the places where an attack is particularly worthwhile.
If you ask the soldiers questions, they say that the enemy's technology is good, but not good enough to fight the Russian forces, with Putin's message that victory is inevitable. When asked what happened to the crew of the wreck of a Bushmaster personnel carrier that Ukraine received from Australia, one of the young soldiers says that they were “annihilated”; he does not want to answer the question of how many people died.
A clap of thunder booms from the west, roughly from the direction of Putin's main residence. But the visitors are still waiting patiently in droves in front of the tent with captured radios, pistols, assault rifles, and mines. A soldier in parade uniform, covered in medals, walks past the line through the exit into the tent with a young woman in a flowing black dress at his side, he too in a triumphant pose, he doesn't have to wait in line, no one complains. But suddenly the storm really breaks out, there is lightning and thunder. A heavy rain falls, it storms, the people in the line run, storming into the tent in a disorderly manner, together with police officers and soldiers from various units and an old woman who has also hung medals on her field-green smock. The rain thunders down on the tent with war booty and visitors, and only when it subsides a little do people rush to the nearest subway station, towards the Arc de Triomphe, which commemorates the victory over Napoleon in 1812.
A war veteran collects money for a new prosthesis
But even in Moscow you can experience a scene that is reminiscent of earlier times that were thought to be over, when invalids from the Chechen wars begged for alms in the capital too. They disappeared, were driven away. But one afternoon, right next to a sneaker shop on the central boulevard ring that is popular with young Muscovites, a man in his mid-thirties in military uniform sits on a bench without a backrest. The shop sells all western sneaker brands, even exclusive editions. The man is missing his right lower leg. He has his leg stretched out and a crutch next to him.
Most passers-by walk past without paying attention, young people look at the sneakers. But two women stop and read the sign that the man has put up. On it is a telephone number and a request to donate, cash in his aluminum cup or into the account linked to the number, for the treatment. There is also a photo of the man in the middle of the ruins, in uniform, before his injuries. One of the women pulls out her smartphone and donates, because that can be done via an app.
It starts to rain again, the invalid on the bench pulls his hood over his head and lights a cigarette, his fingers yellow with nicotine. At first he doesn't want to talk, but then he does. He has no problem with Germans, only the German government is helping Ukraine, he has relatives in Germany. He comes from Stavropol in the Caucasus, and lost his sister in Donetsk in 2014 in a Ukrainian air raid, he says. So the “SWO” was “something personal” for him, the opportunity to “do something”.
A year ago, he was wounded near Donetsk when he was hit by mortar shells. Now his lower leg is missing and the prosthesis is painful; the invalid grimaces in pain every thirty seconds or so. He says he gets support, but it is not enough, so he works as a courier on an electric scooter and keeps coming here from his apartment in the Moscow area to collect money for a better prosthesis.
In front of him on the street, cars are queuing up, including limousines, British, German, Russian. The invalid on the bench in the glittering city center: there he is, the foreign body that reminds us of the war. What does he think when the limousines drive past him like that? “Everyone in their own way,” answers the invalid. “If you don't have it in you to fight, you'd better not, otherwise you're only endangering yourself and your comrades.” The rain is getting heavier, the cigarette is out. But the man stays seated.