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Russian citizens are risking being jailed to protest the war in Ukraine

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Russian police forces in Moscow suppress demonstrators.

Ukrainian citizens aren’t the only ones standing in defiance of the Russian invasion on Ukraine. Thousands of Russian citizens have defied Vladimir Putin’s one protester rule, and have been protesting the war in Ukraine en masse. And obviously, this isn’t just any protest.

Here in America, we can protest just about anything, just about any place we deem fit to feel our discontent. Unless people become unruly or destructive, there generally aren’t arrests or violence. As long as the group you’ve gathered is protesting peacefully, it is within your rights to remain unbothered by whatever authority may be present to ensure peace.

In Russia, protests that consist of more than one person are illegal and expressly outlawed in all forms. There have been reports of people protesting and never returning. Russian citizens are swiftly jailed and oftentimes injured during the arrest. There have been videos of people screaming as they are being carted away by the police, some have speculated that they are screaming because they aren’t sure they’ll return. No matter why they’re screaming, it’s obvious from the videos that protesting in Russia is dangerous, and the fact that these people are willing to risk their lives to speak up for their neighbors is admirable.


Currently, more than 6,400 Russians have been arrested for protesting since the start of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.On one day alone, more than 2,000 people were arrested in 48 cities across the country for protesting, according to OVD-info, a rights group. The rights group was deemed a foreign agent last year due to Putin’s opposition to activists, rights groups and opposition figures. The bans on protests and activist groups haven’t slowed down the increasing demand from the Russian people to end the war in Ukraine.

Tennis star Andrey Rublev showed his disapproval of the war by writing “no war please” on a camera after his win in Dubai. Rublev is the seventh best male tennis player in the Association of Tennis Professionals (ATP) and the on-camera writing came days after protests began in Russia. The people of Russia are feeling emboldened enough to stand against a war that they do not support in a way that can cause them physical harm, and at the very least certain jail time.

While in Moscow protestors were often outnumbered by the police, they dared to show their very real anger with the war by shouting, yelling and displaying signs with anti-war sentiments scrawled across them. Some protesters even wore masks with the word “enough” written on them. Outside of a department store in St. Petersburg, protesters stood shoulder to shoulder, linking arms and chanting.

Protests spread much further than Russia, as thousands of people protested in the streets across Europe in opposition to the war. Russia has been levied heavy sanctions from across the globe; even Switzerland, a country famous for its neutrality, spoke out against the war. It’s been heartwarming to see all of the support the Ukrainian people are receiving, but the most unexpected support is coming from within Russia itself.

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Here's what one Holocaust survivor has to say about the rise of the Antifa movement.

At a recent anti-hate rally in Berkeley, Joey Gibson, leader of the extreme right-wing, white supremacist group, Patriot Prayer, strolled directly in front of me, his three burly bodyguards in tow.

A few people nearby pointed him out, shouting his name.

I had an immediate visceral reaction to the sight of this man, whom I consider to be a neo-Nazi. To my eyes, Gibson and his men were angling for conflict; their swagger left no doubt.

And I stood there shaking, my homemade sign in hand. "Hate speech leads to Holocaust," it read.

I am an 80-year-old Holocaust survivor.

We learned that the young men and women around us, dressed in all black, were trained not to engage in confrontations, except to protect demonstrators like us if we were attacked by white supremacists like Gibson.

It was my first encounter with Antifa, the movement comprised of young militant antifascists who have been vilified in some of the media for their tactics.

So even though I was afraid of Gibson and his thugs, I felt comforted — not by the presence of any police officer that day, but by the presence of the Antifa. I feel gratitude to these young people for being our first line of defense, for being willing to stand up to the hateful actions of neo-Nazis and white nationalists like Gibson.

I know from experience what it feels like not to feel protected.

And I've seen firsthand the impact hate speech, under the guise of free speech, can have. As a child in Nazi Germany, I saw young boys and girls being indoctrinated into becoming mass murderers of their neighbors. Later I learned how grown men, destroyed by fear, were rendered incapable of protecting their loved ones. I learned that a crowd could be moved to heinous actions.

From the time I was 5, I was told never to mention that our mother was Jewish. This was about the time my half-sister, my father's oldest daughter from his first marriage, unexpectedly came to live with us. She had seen her mother and stepfather violently removed from their home, never to be seen again.

When I was 8, two sinister-looking Gestapo, the secret Nazi police, knocked on the door of our makeshift bomb shelter, a converted coal cellar. Berlin was under the final heavy bomb attacks of the Allied Forces. And the men had demanded that my mother accompany them, threatening to set their dog on her and shoot her if she tried to escape.

Everybody in the cellar with us that day knew that my mother's only crime in life was being a Jew, defined not by her profession of a given religious preference but by racial law.

Yet no one dared to speak up for this mother of three young children.

Nobody said a word of encouragement as she was torn away from her children. Nobody demanded these men desist from sending one more Jew to her death in a concentration camp.

The time without our mother seemed endless. We were scared and hungry in that poorly lit, cold, uncomfortable cellar. Some of the neighbors had told us my mother would never return, and they had begun to discuss with which of them each of us children would have to live.

My mother managed to escape and come back to us. But for the rest of my life, I have remembered the fear that crept over me as I faced the possibility of never seeing her again.

Soon, the bombing ceased and the Soviet Army liberated our neighborhood. But I saw the photos in the newspapers of some of the millions who had not been as lucky as we had, those who had had no one to protect them.

I could not trust that such an experience would not repeat itself.

In 1947, my mother, my younger brother and I immigrated to Venezuela and learned there what life was like under a long military Latin American-style dictatorship. Once again, I saw how some people were scared and read how some were detained, deported, and even killed. Again, I was not sure who would defend us if something happened to our family.

And when I came to study in the U.S. in 1955, in what I had erroneously believed was the cradle of freedom, I had a real-life crash course in the lack of civil rights for people of color, the murderous laws still prevalent in many Southern states, and the education, employment, and housing discrimination in the North.

I later learned a startling truth: that the racial laws of the Nazis, which categorized me as a "Jew of the Second Degree" (due to my Jewish mother and Gentile father), were based on U.S. race laws. I had fallen for some of the powerful propaganda this country disseminates abroad through its mass media.

But I woke up and got involved. I learned to speak up and organize for civil rights, against the war in Vietnam and, later, against the many invasions of other countries and ongoing discrimination.

And now here I am, more than 70 years after walking out of that dank cellar in a Berlin neighborhood, faced once again with neo-Nazis spewing and spreading their hate and beliefs about white supremacy.

Far too many people in this country are still excluded and even killed for reasons that were used during World War II to send populations to the gas chambers. We don't have official concentration camps as such in the U.S. (anymore), but the prison-industrial complex is thriving and ever-expanding immigrant detention centers are crowded and inhumane.

So, yes, I am scared of what fascists can do. I have little confidence that local police — ever more heavily armed with military weaponry and unskilled in dealing with the vulnerable in our societies — will protect those confronted by neo-Nazis.

Make no mistake, these neo-Nazis and white supremacists are serious.

The 2017 murders in Portland and Charlottesville demonstrate that.

In Europe, different generations of young antifascists committed to preventing acts of violence to vulnerable populations, resurface from time to time.

I feel comforted by the fact that these young antifascists exist here in the U.S., too.

This story originally appeared in YES! Magazine and is reprinted here with permission.

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This short speech captured everything hopeful about the March for Our Lives rally.

We knew they'd be powerful and poignant. And they still amazed us.

From the very beginning, the student activists at the March for Our Lives on March 24, 2018, in Washington, D.C., grabbed our attention and didn't let go.

And they had a message for our nation's political leaders who still haven't taken meaningful action on gun violence:

"Either represent the people or get out," Parkland, Florida, student Cameron Kasky said, kicking off the day's string of incredible speeches. "Stand for us or beware: The voters are coming."

It was more than an inspiring speech; it was a direct call to action with specific demands — a ban on assault weapons, a ban on high-capacity magazines, and a call for universal background checks.

"This is more than just a march," Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School student Delaney Tarr said soon after. "This is more than just one day, one event, then moving on."

As much as their stories have moved us emotionally, Tarr and those who followed her quickly made it clear their purpose was about real, tangible action.

"We will continue to fight for common sense. We will continue to fight for our lives. We will continue to fight for our dead friends."

But one student in particular made an unforgettable impression on the crowd.

Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

When Washington, D.C., native Zion Kelly took the stage, he shared a heartbreaking story of losing his twin brother Zaire to gun violence. "Today, I raise my hand in honor of my twin brother, Zaire Kelly," he said, speaking with a clear tone of strength and conviction even as tears filled his eyes.

Kelly then asked those in attendance, "Raise your hand if you've been affected by gun violence."

17-year-old Zaire was killed by an armed assailant while walking home from a college-prep class in September 2017. Zion and his family have been working to support gun safety measures in D.C.

"Just like you, I've had enough," he said.

It was a powerful moment, where cameras captured the fact that the entire section in front of the stage was reserved for those directly affected by gun violence, connecting direct faces with the epidemic.

We saw the next generation of leaders step forward — and the future is brighter than ever.

They made us cry and made us angry with their stories of pain and frustration. But the young adults speaking in Washington, D.C., and at rallies around the country also made it clear they have taken charge of a movement that adults have failed to make real progress on.

It's a youth-driven political movement unlike any America has seen since the Vietnam War and one that is fueled by a generation better equipped to use new tools of activism like social media to move past the forces that stand in their way.

Read more on the March for Our Lives with stories on Parkland student Emma Gonzalez’s emotional silence, outstanding protest signs, photos from around the country, and moving words from little kids.

And if you want to support the anti-gun-violence movement, we have a quiz for the best way you can help.

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31 powerful photos from the massive, awe-inspiring March for Our Lives.

On March 24, 2018, people around the world took to the streets to protest gun violence with the March for Our Lives.

Scheduled in response to the Feb. 14 school shooting in Parkland, Florida, the March for Our Lives descended on the nation's capital — in addition to smaller marches around the country — with people voicing support for gun safety measures like universal background checks and a ban on certain semi-automatic rifles.

From the signs to the sheer number of people in attendance, the demonstrations were simply stunning on a visual level.

Washington, D.C.

Sign-holding marchers fill the streets in Washington, D.C. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

People bear messages on uprisen hands in Washington, D.C. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

There were performances by artists like Common, Demi Lovato, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Ben Platt, Vic Mensa, Miley Cyrus, and Ariana Grande.

[rebelmouse-image 19531725 dam="1" original_size="750x500" caption="Common performs "Stand Up for Something" with members of the Cardinal Shehan School choir. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images." expand=1]Common performs "Stand Up for Something" with members of the Cardinal Shehan School choir. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

Demi Lovato sings in Washington, D.C. Photo by Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images.

Lin-Manuel Miranda and Ben Platt take the mics at the Washington D.C. March for Our Lives rally. Photo by Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images.

Rapper Vic Mensa performs at the rally in D.C. Photo by Jim Watson/AFP/Getty Images.

[rebelmouse-image 19531729 dam="1" original_size="750x500" caption="Miley Cyrus belts out "The Climb" during the March for Our Lives rally. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images." expand=1]Miley Cyrus belts out "The Climb" during the March for Our Lives rally. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

Ariana Grande sings at the D.C. rally. Photo by Mandel Ngan/AFP/Getty Images.

The crowd was absolutely massive.

Photo by Win McNamee/Getty Images.

Photo by Nicholas Kamm/AFP/Getty Images.

Photo by Alex Wong/Getty Images.

Of course, students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, and others from around the country, delivered impassioned speeches to a roaring crowd.

Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School student Delaney Tarr speaks. Photo by Nicholas Kamm/AFP/Getty Images.

Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School Student Cameron Kasky addresses the crowd. Photo by Chip Somodevilla/Getty Images.

Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School student David Hogg raises a fist at the rally. Photo by Jim Watson/AFP/Getty Images.

Alexandria, Virginia, student Naomi Wadler speaks during the D.C. rally. Photo by Jim Watson/AFP/Getty Images.

The demonstration weren't only in D.C. Marches and rallies popped up around the world in support of the March for Our Lives.

In the U.S., there were more than 800 rallies scheduled with a simple goal: to care more about our children than we care about our guns.

New York City, New York

[rebelmouse-image 19531739 dam="1" original_size="750x500" caption="A crowd unites with signs such as "Are our kids' lives worth your guns?" Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images." expand=1]A crowd unites with signs such as "Are our kids' lives worth your guns?" Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images.

[rebelmouse-image 19531740 dam="1" original_size="750x500" caption="Paul McCartney joins the New York march wearing a shirt that says "We Can End Gun Violence." Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images." expand=1]Paul McCartney joins the New York march wearing a shirt that says "We Can End Gun Violence." Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images.

Protesters demand gun regulations in N.Y. Photo by Spencer Platt/Getty Images.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Photo by Jessica Kourkounis/Getty Images.

Photo by Jessica Kourkounis/Getty Images.

Photo by Jessica Kourkounis/Getty Images.

Los Angeles, California

Photo by Mario Tama/Getty Images.

Photo by Mario Tama/Getty Images.

Pflugerville, Texas

Photo by Scott Olson/Getty Images.

Photo by Scott Olson/Getty Images.

Berlin, Germany

Photo by Adam Berry/Getty Images.

Photo by Adam Berry/Getty Images.

Photo by Sean Gallup/Getty Images.

London, England

Photo by Tolga Akmen/AFP/Getty Images.

Photo by Tolga Akmen/AFP/Getty Images.

Amsterdam, Netherlands

Photo by Koen Van Weel/AFP/Getty Images.

Read more on the March for Our Lives with stories on Parkland student Emma Gonzalez’s emotional silence, D.C. student Zion Kelly’s speech on losing his twin to gun violence, outstanding protest signs, and moving words from little kids.

And if you want to support the anti-gun-violence movement, we have a quiz for the best way you can help.

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