Svetlana Prokopyeva

A freelance correspondent for Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty and the 60FM radio station.

On 60FM in Pskov, Svetlana presented her article 'Repression for the State' as part of her own programme, 'A Minute of Enlightenment'. In it, she covered the terrorist attack that took place on 31 October 2018 at the Federal Security Service (FSB) Directorate for Arkhangelsk Oblast. She subsequently published the written version of the article on the Pskov News Feed website. As a result, Svetlana was convicted under Part 2 of Article 205.2 of the Russian Criminal Code ('public incitement to terrorist activity'). The court sentenced her to a fine of 500,000 roubles.

2020s

Reading time: 8 minutes

The Final Statement

‘The Nazi propaganda that culminated in the genocide of entire peoples, a world war, and the deaths of millions was state propaganda.’

Your Honour,

As I was preparing my statement, I asked myself, out of habit: what is it that I really want to say to the public? A defendant’s final statement is usually listened to attentively, and it would be unwise to waste this opportunity simply trying to elicit sympathy.

At first, I decided to talk about how absurd it is to use the full force of criminal prosecution to punish people for words, and how ineffective this is compared to genuine public condemnation. Judge for yourselves: we have countless examples of officials, politicians, or simply celebrities saying something stupid, rude, or offensive, only to lose their positions and advertising contracts in the shortest possible time following a scandal. Social media reacts quickly and sensitively. Society, following its collective instinct for self-preservation, weeds out hate speech and hatred on its own.

Now compare this with my criminal case. When the article ‘Repression for the State’ was first published, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of people read it. It caused no public outcry whatsoever. Yet six months later, armed SOBR officers burst into my home, turned everything upside down, and seized my belongings–and here we are, in the second year of proceedings, bringing in experts to determine whether the article contained the elements of a crime. Meanwhile, this supposedly dangerous text, according to Roskomnadzor, has now been read by hundreds of thousands of people, translated into English, and gained recognition in countries around the world.

Another subject I considered addressing was the inverted pyramid of law. I am a journalist, and at the very foundation of my profession lies the constitutional right to freedom of speech. This right is elaborated upon in the federal law ‘On the Mass Media’, which obliges journalists to inform society about significant events and issues and grants them the right to express their personal opinions publicly. This is my job, and it is for doing this job that I am being prosecuted.

And so, on one side of the scales is the Constitution, and on the other are Roskomnadzor’s departmental regulations. An employee of this quasi-censorship agency noticed that a computer program had flagged a text containing the word ‘terrorist attack’. She concluded that she was dealing with a ‘serious article’ and filled out a report of a ‘violation’ without properly understanding what the violation actually was, because she had no specialised training. ‘I’m not an expert’, she said during these proceedings. The report then followed a lengthy bureaucratic route from one authority to another, as prescribed by the regulations. As a result, not only was the constitutional right to freedom of speech and opinion violated, not only was the status of a journalist, enshrined in federal law, disregarded, but the very foundation of law itself–the presumption of innocence–was trampled upon. I remind you that I have already been punished through the confiscation of my belongings and money, even before the trial began.

What is particularly telling is that not one of the government agencies involved in this process noticed or corrected this imbalance. This alone speaks to the ill health of our legal system.

But there is an even more important subject. The expert I called, Yulia Aleksandrovna Safonova, noted in her testimony before the court that states deliberately restrict freedom of speech when it comes to incitement to hostility and hatred. This is precisely why criminal cases ‘for words’ are possible in the first place. Later, Yulia Aleksandrovna clarified what she meant. She reminded us that such restrictions first began appearing in the legislation of democratic countries after the Second World War, when the world came to understand the catastrophe that Nazi propaganda had brought about. Back then, too, it was ‘just words’.

This is a serious problem and an extremely important crossroads: how can we use the force of law and state coercion to combat hate speech while preserving freedom of speech at the same time? How can we prevent absurd criminal cases in which I, for example, face up to six years in prison for expressing a personal opinion? Or cases in which someone is arrested and subsequently sent to a penal colony for a comment on social media? We all understand perfectly well how far these examples are from the words and speeches that led people to Buchenwald and Auschwitz.

I have thought about this a great deal, and I believe I have finally understood the crux of the matter. The Nazi propaganda that culminated in the genocide of entire peoples, a world war, and the deaths of millions was state propaganda. Adolf Hitler, the architect of the greatest crime against humanity in history, was the leader of a state. Goebbels, whose name has become synonymous with propaganda, was a government official–the Minister of Propaganda. And the rank-and-file perpetrators of the Holocaust, those who carried out executions and torture in concentration camps, were also in the service of the state. They ‘acted according to instructions’ and were ‘simply following orders’.

If we look at history, we will see that the largest-scale massacres of civilians were organised by states. The Cultural Revolution in China (approximately 100 million people affected) was the official policy of the ruling Communist Party of China from 1966 to 1976. The Great Terror in the USSR (more than 1.5 million victims over two years, 1937–1938) was carried out by state security agencies. The Armenian Genocide of 1915 (1.1 million victims) was supported by the government of the Ottoman Empire. The Rwandan Genocide (between half a million and one million Tutsi killed over four months in 1994) was organised by the Hutu-led government.

It is precisely state power, when it falls into the hands of cynical and ruthless people, that becomes the greatest threat to the safety of citizens.

When citizens allow a criminal politician, party, or junta to usurp power, they risk losing everything: from their property and the right to express their opinions to their freedom and even their right to life. But criminal policies do not begin with criminal intent–no, they always come wrapped in ‘lofty goals’ and ‘noble motives’, such as restoring the nation’s greatness, defending sovereignty, or fighting an internal enemy. This is precisely why ordinary people can so easily be drawn into implementing criminal policies: they are simply following instructions and carrying out orders.

Repression develops gradually. It is impossible to predict when restrictions on rights and the persecution of dissent will turn into concentration camps and mass executions. History tells us that such a transformation is possible even in the most cultured and civilised society, provided that the state pursues the appropriate policies and propaganda.

This is precisely why freedom of speech is necessary–so that we can sound the alarm in time. We need independent media, journalists, opposition politicians, and activists who can tell the ruling majority in good time: ‘Hey! Look around! You’re heading down a slippery slope!’ This is why the state must always remain the primary target of media criticism: the system of power, with its machinery of coercion, which can become an instrument of mass repression.

I am not afraid to criticise the state.

I am not afraid to criticise the law enforcement system or tell security officials that they are sometimes wrong. Because I know that what is truly frightening is what will happen if I do not speak up, if nobody speaks up.

I do not claim to possess the ultimate truth–there is no such thing. Anyone can be mistaken and make errors, and criticism is not always justified. But it is better to have criticism, even when it is unfounded, than to have none at all. The more ideas we discuss and the wider the range of opinions represented, the easier it is for society to make the right decision and choose the best path forward. And the easier it becomes to prevent another humanitarian catastrophe, something humanity, unfortunately, is never immune to.

I ask you, Your Honour, when reaching a decision in my criminal case, to take into account not only official reports and court records, but also the fundamental principles upon which our society is built. These include freedom of speech, the status of journalists, and the mission of the press. I was doing my job. I did nothing that went beyond my professional duty. There are no elements of a crime here.

3 July 2020
Pskov Regional Court, Pskov, Russia
Source: Russian Union of Journalists
More about the case: Memorial
Photo: Pskov News Feed