I was born in Sverdlovsk, but I am a Serbian citizen and have lived in the Balkans since I was 17 years old. This happened as a result of the historical vicissitudes and espionage passions in which my ancestors participated. My maternal grandfather’s family lived in Croatia. In the 1920s, two young men – a grandfather and his brother-got mixed up with local communists. Communism was all the rage, it was cool, progressive, and insecure. To avoid trouble with the Yugoslav royal Police, my great-grandmother took her sons to Paris. There they were both recruited by the Soviet GRU. My grandfather’s brother went to Japan on assignment, became a member of Sorge’s band, and died in a Japanese prison. And my grandfather in Paris married my grandmother (she is from a Jewish-Polish family), after which he was sent – from the GRU, of course – to another European country. My grandmother and her two daughters ended up in Moscow. In 1941, the Soviet government sent them to Sverdlovsk for evacuation. Almost 20 years later, in the late 1950s, a young Serb-my future father – came there for an internship from Yugoslavia. Met my mom. I was born.
In the family, my mothers spoke Russian. My father’s family speaks Serbian, of course. Every summer I came from Sverdlovsk to Belgrade for a vacation. I taught Serbian myself, from comics, and never took any language courses. But most importantly, here in the Balkans, I learned a free, non-Soviet life and thoughts. Yugoslavia was, of course, a socialist country, but not a ‘scoop’. At a minimum, there were open borders, you could travel almost all over Europe.
At the age of 16, I was called to the ‘organs’, to the KGB. If there is one thing that never changes, it is the address of the ‘office’ in Sverdlovsk: Lenin Street, 17. I suspect that the royal Okhrana was located there. Now, of course, there is an FSB office there. At the office, I was carefully asked: boy, which citizenship will you take, mom’s or dad’s? I didn’t think for a second. A year later, after finishing school, I entered the Faculty of Law of the University of Belgrade. When I am asked to answer in one sentence what has changed in my life since leaving the USSR, I answer: ‘I started buying Time magazine weekly at the kiosk.’
While studying law school, I went to work for the Russian editorial office of Radio Yugoslavia – something like the BBC Russian service, but in the Balkans. They took me there because I was fluent in Russian. Already working as a lawyer, I worked with them for a long time. And after Perestroika in Russia, he wrote for Radio Liberty and Nezavisimaya Gazeta.
The Yugoslav War was beginning right before my eyes. In a sense, it was similar to what had just happened to Russia: the political situation was gradually getting worse and worse, but it didn’t seem like it would get to the worst. Therefore, in 2014, when Russia seized Crimea and provoked unrest in the eastern regions of Ukraine, I had the feeling that the Russian Federation was acting according to the methodology drawn up in Yugoslavia in the 1990s and 2000. When an aggressive dictator appears in any country and manages to gain popular support, the future is easy to predict. All events unfold according to the same scenario and end in war. So it was in Germany in the 1930s, so it was in Yugoslavia-thank God, it didn’t reach the gas chambers – so it is happening now in Russia. The same robbery and lawlessness under the guise of patriotism. And everything ends equally badly for everyone, but first of all-for the people and the country that allowed its dictators to create this. There are no exceptions.
Recently, someone noticed how much the image of the Russian singer Shaman, Putin’s favorite, is similar to the image of the young Nazi from the movie ‘Cabaret’ by Bob Foss. I don’t think this is a conscious tracing paper. I’m sure not. I assume that the authors of the video with the Shaman ‘Cabaret’ did not even see. Rather, it is a historical pattern: if you follow a similar paradigm, you arrive at the same visual image, the same way of thinking and acting.
I have lived in Montenegro for almost 18 years. I can’t say that I love Montenegro more and Serbia less, or vice versa. I like specific places. I love Belgrade for its atmosphere, it has a unique ‘Belgrade spirit’. I love Serbian medieval monasteries – they have amazing frescoes. It is worth visiting, for example, the Milesheva Monastery, right on the Serbian-Montenegrin border, in Prijepolje. And to drive from Belgrade along the Danube, past the Romanian border, to the Iron Gate – the beauty is amazing. And what I love about Montenegro is all visible on my Facebook page. There are a lot of photos, just some kind of everyday description of Montenegrin life. Since I was 9 years old, when I was given the Smena camera, I was fond of photography. I shot everything that impressed and surprised me. Then it cooled down a little. With the advent of smartphones, everything is back.
I became a Pristaniste volunteer because in March 2022 I felt that I had to do something. In the first days of the war, a rally in support of Ukraine was organized in Podgorica. I got in my car and drove from Herceg Novi to this rally. It was a completely natural impulse. Then I started reading Serbian newspapers. I was struck by how pro-Putin some people present events. And many people support Russia based on the doctrine: ‘Everything that Putin does is right.’ For the Serbian audience (in Vremya magazine) I began to talk about what is really happening with Russia and the Russians, what the Russian press writes, how the regime deals with those who are against the war. Then I met some volunteers from Pristaniste. It was clear that both Russians who fled the regime and Ukrainians who fled the war needed help with the Montenegrin language and understanding of Montenegrin realities. Translate, explain, and explain. That’s what I’ve always been good at. That’s what I do.
What do I want to say to the Ukrainians and Russians who disagree with the war?
I understand you.
I know what it’s like when life suddenly breaks down. I remember myself and my country in 1993, at the peak of impoverishment, economic and political blockade, sanctions and the collapse of hopes. I remember my despair. I thought it was for the rest of my life. But no, no. So, guys – what’s happening to you right now isn’t permanent. It will end. There is a prospect. Do what you can to bring this perspective closer.
And here’s another thing. Seek support from nature. The Adriatic coast is something special. Even the same places always look different. I often ride around Montenegro for nothing. If you get bored, you can leave… for example, in the direction of Ulcinj. I once took a young couple there, refugees from Russia. They were staying in Risan and were clearly depressed. Risan can really be depressing in winter. We got in the car and drove south. On the way, somewhere after the Good Water, they began to come to their senses. We arrived in Valdanos, a bay near Ulcinj with olive groves all over it. We went for a walk in these groves, and my companions just in a matter of half an hour got out of their Risan moping and apathy. If you are having a hard time, go to Valdanos. Proven location, revives.
