Annual conference of the Independent Institute of Philosophy#

Françoise Lesourd

Professeur émérite à l’Université Jean Moulin Lyon 3, membre de l’IRPhiL

From 17 to 19 October 2005, Athens hosted the annual conference of the Independent Institute of Philosophy, bringing together social and humanities researchers in exile. Attendees were primarily Russian scholars who had expressed their opposition to the war. The conference, intitled «Facing the Future», provided a fairly clear picture of the current situation within the country and its various potential developments. The abundance of ongoing projects testifies to the vitality of the Russian intellectual community in exile, but also to the dilemmas it faces. The main topics of interest to an outside observer from this conference are outlined below.

The first concrete and essential question in Russia today is that of the law: what remains of it under Vladimir Putin’s government — whether there is a genuine attempt to preserve some vestiges of legality, or whether its appearances merely serve as a mask for the arbitrary power of the regime? Currently, the task of lawyers is routinely to defend their fellow citizens declared «foreign agents», or accused of «extremism» («terrorism») or even treason. History is repeating itself: today’s trials strongly resemble those of the 1930s. These are the usual elements of what is called terror, but current means of information amplify their effects: sometimes, fear, justified or not, is even transmitted to Russians who have left the country.

People accused of «extremism» are suspected of participating in conspiracies. «Financing extremism» (a very vague charge) exposes them to severe penalties, preceded by veiled warnings, signals perceptible only to a people close to them. Whether legal measures or veiled attempts at intimidation, they are applied randomly. Nothing is ever certain: this is a characteristic of terror. The only certainty: the potential danger posed by the slightest expression of individual thought. Recently, in Saint Petersburg, street singers were simply banned, and their instruments confiscated.

When Vladimir Putin began his last term, this evolution was, in fact, predictable. But as an outside observer, it is necessary to add : we remember that the relative comfort to which people were beginning to become accustomed, the opportunities to travel, gave an illusion of freedom, and many believed that the country would naturally move toward greater democracy. It cannot be stressed enough how criminal the complacency, illusions, and carelessness that preceded 2022 (not only that of the Russians, but equally that of foreign observers) truly were, and what a responsibility we all bear for having abdicated our critical thinking, it was so easy! The war, which very few people had foreseen, changed everything and revealed the profound reality of the transformations now visible in the country.

Under these conditions, it is impossible for lawyers to do what is traditionally considered their job: to demonstrate, to argue… To allow their clients to escape too heavy a sentence, they can only compromise with the power, possibly obtain clemency from the authorities, provided that journalists remain silent about the abuses committed by the latter.

The status of information is paradoxical. On one hand, its rapid diffusion (often through unofficial channels) supports authorities in their desire to inspire fear. But it is a double-edged sword, because this same power is dependent on information that is truncated, distorted, or even suppressed. How can we maintain stable points of reference when media, used by people in power, constantly force us to question the authenticity of what they say?

One of the projects presented during the conference focused on the media and their contradictory actions — the shocks they provoke, but also the protection they can offer. One speaker emphasized the importance of art in the current state of confusion for many: it provides a point of reference, stable criteria, while avoiding definitive value judgments.

The ambiguous status of information also affects Russia’s technological advancement: paradoxically, the strengthening of oppression, incompatible with all forms of publicity (or «transparency»), leads to a technological regression in this area, contrary to what is now happening in all developed countries. We must remember the recent disappearance of WhatsApp in Russia. Even simple phone conversations are sometimes made difficult or are monitored through new technologies.

A new concept, that of administrative responsibility, allows any institution to potentially transform itself into an instrument of repression. This has unexpected consequences: according to observers, a peripheral despot like the Chechen Kadyrov, installed at the head of his country by the Russian authorities, seems to be losing influence, as the special services, which can be described as faceless, expand their power. It is noted that, unlike during the perestroika era, there seems to be relatively less crime for last years: this is precisely because the government exercises a monopoly on violence, thus containing the violence that is generally characteristic of certain sectors of society. Some observers therefore predict a resurgence of crime after the end of the war and the Putin regime (in an unspecified future), especially since one consequence of the military operations is the abundance of weapons in circulation.

The question posed by the first émigrés just after the 1917 revolution naturally resurfaces, and it is one of the main questions of this recent conference : is change conceivable in the near future? When will we return to Russia? The authorities want to persuade the population, and the world, that turning back is impossible. This situation can be described as a gradual «freeze», which is constantly intensifying. For a year now, it has no longer been possible to hope for protection through mere inaction; it is necessary to go further, to demonstrate acceptance through visible signs. Paradoxically, this pressure exerted on individuals ends up annihilating all resistance, even purely internal, and dissuades some people from leaving even though they have every reason to do so — and sometimes even encourages recent émigrés, who left their loved ones and possessions behind, to return. All of this is reminiscent of the early decades of the Soviet regime. Should we conclude that the Putin regime is destined to last as long as the Soviet Union?

How stable is the process that has been unfolding in Russia for the past two decades, initially without anyone being aware of it? The current authorities hold the Russian public sphere entirely under their control. Can we judge what is happening outside of this public sphere? According to some accounts, the phenomenon of denunciation, which played such a prominent role in the Soviet era, still exists, but seems to play a secondary role, in an era where ubiquitous social media fosters fear and suspicion. Any inclination toward mass resistance has vanished for at least fifteen years. As under any totalitarian regime, society is completely atomized. Generally speaking, one could say that the population seems to be preparing for a long war, and that passivity prevails.

One factual point must be considered: the presentday officials is aging (the Special Military Operation already has its veterans). They will have to be replaced. But by whom? Is succession assured? What role can Donald Trump play here indirectly? We would like to mention Régis Genté’s book, Our man in Washington, Trump in the hands of the Russians (Genté 2024). It wasn't discussed during the conference, but provides a clear picture of Donald Trump's close and long-standing ties with the Russian establishment and the financial circles of the post-perestroika era.

It was noted during the conference that Covid-19 actually delayed the war with Ukraine, which had been planned for some time, as a logical consequence of reconstituting the lost Soviet empire. In fact, what was undoubtedly decisive in the decision to launch this war was the rise to power of Volodymyr Zelensky: it was the somewhat unexpected result of truly free elections, characteristic of a democracy, and therefore of Europe. And this point is undoubtedly the most worrying for the Russian government, because of the danger of contagion.

On this subject, it should be added that current events can only truly be understood in light of a much older history, particularly that of the 17th century, a time when the most modern aspects of European culture (painting, theater, translations, education, etc.) flowed massively into Muscovy via Kyiv. A specialist in ancient Russia like Dmitri Likhachev describes this phenomenon very precisely (Likhachev 1973; 1988). On a completely different level than the supposed threats from NATO, Ukraine, through its cultural and therefore political traditions, appears as a kind of Western wedge driven into the flank of the Russian Empire, imposing upon it a «modernity» that is contrary to its own. This decisive element, rarely articulated, suggests that the current situation is destined to last a long time, as it reflects the deepest historical and cultural processes.

The importance of Ukraine was emphasized during the conference: if another country had been attacked, would Russian intellectuals have reacted the same way? When the war began, the Russian opposition had lost all its strength. Yet Ukraine, being so close, represents a certain alternative for Russia. At the same time, the proximity of the two nations, Ukrainian and Russian, makes the situation even more dangerous. Evil begins with the fight against evil (as we see in other conflicts today), with the internalization of the logic of war. The absurd campaigns against the Russian language, among other things (the mere use of Russian on social media is sometimes seen as an act of aggression), have stirred up a concern that will not disappear. Against this backdrop, the importance of the process of understanding, in the face of the exacerbation of conflicts (both individual and collective), was emphasized several times during this conference. But the necessary repentance is difficult in the midst of conflict and demands great moral strength. And the Church, whether Russian or Ukrainian, is a national Church, and it can be all the less able to help since Orthodoxy tends to view war as a natural disaster, on par with floods, earthquakes, and so on — deserved punishment in a world already given over to evil.

The interventions revealed a kind of convergence between the economic model that appears to be that of present-day Russia and what could be called the political theology to which it subscribes.

At the beginning of the last century, the liberalization of the economy and technological innovations led to inequalities that contributed to triggering the First World War and the ensuing economic catastrophe. Russia had previously enjoyed a fairly prosperous economy, but the war proved fatal, leading to revolution and the Bolshevik dictatorship. The Soviet economy was a planned, centrally planned, and illiberal one.

European countries, for their part, all experienced the Great Depression of the 1930s, which led them to adopt certain forms of regulation. The role of governments increased, and at the same time, investments in industry fostered the modernization of the economy. These Western economic models thus combined liberalism with a degree of moderate interventionism. In many countries, this system entered a period of crisis at the end of the 1960s. The desire for freedom led to a neoliberalism fueled by technological innovations.

The first phase of this change was national, but it then spread beyond those limits. The concentration of production in a number of countries led to global inequalities. In the liberal economy, foreign investment and technology took on new importance, shifting national expertise to multinational corporations. Essential decisions now rest with global organizations. But a new group of countries has emerged (China, India, etc.) that are challenging the status and role of these supranational, global organizations. This is the case with China.

In general, in developed countries, the role of governments has changed over the past few decades with regard to financing models, employer-worker relations, the place of the banking system, the importance of trade unions, and so on. The distinction between a planned economy and a market economy is no longer so clear-cut: on the one hand, there is a certain degree of state intervention even in liberal economies; on the other hand, faced with global choices, national elites, who are losing influence, are seeking to regain power.

For various reasons, the current era is a period of crisis for most countries. Since the 1980s, we have witnessed numerous upheavals (the regime change in Syria, Brexit, etc.), which inevitably have an impact on economic models.

In this context, what is Russia’s place? The USSR had an old-style economic model, where the status of the elite presupposed the prevalence of national expertise. At the end of the USSR, the economy was going through a major crisis. During perestroika, the emergence of new actors and the transition from a planned to a market economy were apparently more difficult than in China. The post-Soviet model is a hybrid one. The ideal represented by the USSR system up until the 1980s remains present in a segment of the population. At present, the government is attempting to reintroduce ideology into this sphere.

At the end of the USSR, liberalization was inextricably linked to violence, as demonstrated by privatizations and the series of abuses that accompanied them, both at the individual and national levels. Furthermore, it is well known that the Russian state, for multiple and difficult-to-define reasons, has always been unable to collect taxes effectively: capital accumulation occurs outside its borders. This characteristic of post-Soviet Russia undoubtedly has far-reaching consequences, necessitating measures that extend beyond mere administration. The system is struggling to function, seemingly requiring authoritarian measures to bring about change.

Under these conditions, namely a return to state interventionism, the transformations were undoubtedly destined to take on a military dimension. A war economy restores control over the economy to the government. But is a «stratocracy» (to use Cornelius Castoriadis’s term) viable under present conditions? Are the prospects opening up to Russia now those of North Korea? The stakes are high, given that economic model and political culture are closely intertwined. But can we say, as one of the speakers did, that Russia’s raison d’être is war «for the time being»?

It is worth emphasizing (outside the context of this conference) how useful it would be to reread Cornelius Castoriadis’s book, Facing War (Castoriadis 1981), taking into account what, in the 1970s and 80s, was an idea skillfully cultivated by Soviet propaganda — the power of the Soviet military-industrial complex, partly illusory (as subsequent years would demonstrate) — but also the constants of a political power that imposed upon the country the sole purpose of war (real or imagined), and upon Russian society the existence of its army. As if Russia were first and foremost an army, which, secondarily, also possessed the attributes of a state. Are the economic choices this implies compatible with the existence of a modern society, or even of any society at all? Can Russia become, much more effectively than at the end of the Soviet regime, a «stratocracy»? His future may hinge on this term.

One speaker aptly reminded the audience of the weight of the past on current political institutions: the fall of the Soviet empire resonated so deeply because it had accumulated destructive internal factors over centuries: a destroyed local political culture, like that of Novgorod, or another imported from abroad, that of the Tatars. The Russian political landscape is a battleground between these two opposing principles: the pre-democratic tradition of Novgorod and that of oriental despotism. It is now necessary to revisit the experience of the 1990s, when a certain political consciousness had emerged, when attempts were made to create independent institutions, and when society had to rebuild itself from within.

At the same time, we are seeing the resurgence of certain age-old tendencies in Russian thought, which can be described as eschatological. Official discourse assigns Russia a specific place between the current notions of a «collective West» (this «global evil») and a «global South», with a premonition of the Apocalypse. We see how Western «global evil» is contrary to Russian interests, which, in turn, represent the «global good», with Russia opposing the fallacious progress sought by the «global West». Since the balance of religions in the Middle East has been destroyed by the West, it falls to Russia to restore it, in the spirit of the «global South». Soviet propaganda already denounced the West, supposedly ruining the countries of the «South». The pandemic was considered, in an anti-Western, conspiratorial mindset, as a «global threat», that of vaccines which inspired fear.

As if in a state of paranoia, official discourse strives to portray all international events as directed against Russia. This is theme is directly related to Putin’s Rhetoric of War. Rhetoric lies at the intersection of rationality and emotion. Ultimately, it matters little which philosophers Vladimir Putin invokes: his quotations are not argumentative. This is not ideology, but a tactic designed to justify war: for example, the supposed «genocide» in the Donbas, or the «neo-fascism» of which the Ukrainian authorities are accused.

It is difficult to effectively oppose this rhetoric because of its persistence and repetitiveness. The idea of ​​a malevolent «collective West» justifies the actions undertaken, portraying them as inevitable. War is presented by those in power as the new normality to justify the lack of opposition to it. There is no question of mobilization (which, one might add, demonstrates the limitations of official propaganda); the only requirement is to convince the population not to resist. Identification with the leader (as in the Stalinist era) is no longer necessary. Is this a sign of modernity, or of the omnipotence of this rhetoric? Putin's Russia has been described as an «informational autocracy».

It seems that the president’s administration includes some adherents of the narratives surrounding the «Global South» and the «Collective West». In accordance with these overarching representations, which border on the sacred, they imagine various «agents» working to fulfill the West’s nefarious ambitions. Above all, it can be said that all of this testifies to the eschatological spirit that has always been present (to varying degrees) in Russian thought and is now being revived.

A reality is disappearing from the realm of possible expression: political thought as something other than a means of serving power. The very definition of «the Russian people» is problematic, the term having been misused for decades. What does it represent now? The space for spontaneous public expression, not dictated by the authorities, no longer exists. At the time of the First World War, one speaker reminded us, militaristic propaganda influenced the discourse of intellectuals, just as it does today. But, unlike today, the same person (for example, Zinaida Gippius) could also, in certain cases, express an anti-militarist view, which is completely impossible today.

Those in Russia who remain attentive to the various aspects of the situation are now becoming aware of certain conflicts that, until now, had remained invisible to most (for example, the situation in Armenia). Conversely, it is tempting to withdraw into oneself and create an artificial «moral paradise». Certain sectors that can resemble a kind of bureaucracy (medicine, education, etc.) sometimes serve as a refuge, contributing to the isolation of the individual. In such a context, individual responsibility becomes a daily hardship in real life. But in itself, under these conditions of total control by the authorities over all forms of expression, the mere possibility of individual thought must be preserved; it is as important as action.

Talking about «academic freedoms» in this context seems ludicrous. There are still some more or less protected fields (niches, as in the Soviet era): patristics, theology, classical literature… Yet, one can no longer take refuge in narrow specialization. Faced with war, one cannot avoid some form of engagement, whatever it may be. Moreover, host countries often demand it, for example Italy, where the academic climate requires taking a stand — for or against Putinism.

Russian scientific life is affected for two opposing reasons: politics intrudes on all aspects of life, and the ever-present possibility of denunciation limits freedom; but conversely, one might question whether a specialist’s ties to the government justify, for example, his exclusion from an editorial board. At present, competence and loyalty sometimes clash.

We must turn to the great creators of the past to find examples of resistance to crises similar to the one we are experiencing today. Boris Pasternak is a case in point. His poetic work was initially marked by an anticipation of catastrophe (as with many of his contemporaries, particularly with a composer very close to him in his youth, Scriabin), then, after the revolution, this work was experienced as a kind of rebirth: Second Birth is, in fact, the title of his collection from 1930-31 (Pasternak 1932 ; 1976). Faced with catastrophe, Pasternak attempts to create a new order, a new aesthetic — one of clarity, unlike some 19th-century poets.

We have seen the emergence of a number of concepts that are only superficially new, but whose invention is significant: in particular, that of «re-Stalinization». He reminds us that during the perestroika era, the question of collective and, above all, individual responsibility was not truly addressed. Hence the reference to Hannah Arendt: at the end of the Soviet regime, there was no equivalent to the Nuremberg trials. And, one might add (as an outside observer), the poison of this unrealized catharsis continues to corrupt the life of Russian society today. The lies about the past coincide with the return of real hardships.

In summary, this conference provided a better understanding of both the situation in Russia and the current condition of emigrants, as experienced on a daily basis. Some claim that they must overcome a kind of internal taboo, because they cannot renounce their original culture, Russian culture, while deeply loving the countries where they are led to live.

Ultimately, what is the legitimacy of those who are outside the country? One presentation attempted to answer this question: the radio broadcasts of Thomas Mann, exiled in the United States during the war: Listen, Germany! Radio Broadcasts 1940-1945 (Mann 1942, 1943, 2004). It is important to publish them in Russian, as the present situation in Russia, and that of those opposed to the war, resonate with these texts. They illustrate, among other things, the difficulty of dialogue between those who have left and those who remain, a question that arose frequently during the conference.

Certain convergences are evident between these two eras: the sense of humiliation that supposedly followed the Treaty of Versailles for Germany and that of perestroika, when Russia partially lost its status as a great power. What is the necessity of these speeches by Thomas Mann now? Despite the difference in eras (different access to information, for example), questions of guilt and justification arise in both cases, and the danger of speaking out is just as great. How can we assess individual responsibility in a situation dominated by doubt?

What can we expect from the future? After the defeat of Nazism, we know that German society was transformed… Can we hope for the same for Russia? Is a developed society necessarily destined to overcome fascism or its equivalent? The recent experience of violence and extreme oppression has an atomizing effect. We can no longer say «we» in such a situation. But how, then, can we envision a shared future?

Yet, the number of publications and projects demonstrates the vitality of the Russian intellectual world in exile.

Educational institutions are being founded abroad, intended for young Russians but open to other audiences, sometimes offering instruction in English, to create a system of independent institutions. For example, in the city of Budva (Montenegro), the first Russian art school in exile (primary, secondary, and higher education) was established, offering degree programs. It was modeled after the Free Faculty of Sciences and Arts of Montenegro. It was necessary to gain recognition, obtain qualification within the country’s system, then accreditation, and finally the legalization of diplomas. Perhaps this is the first step toward building a full-fledged university: the model is the Moscow State University of Social and Economic Sciences, independent of the state — which, incidentally, is currently prevented from recruiting new students.

In Bulgaria, a «philosophical club» has been created, this time in a completely informal way, where Russians and Ukrainians meet to try to reflect together on the war, migrations… trying to provide them with points of reference to orient themselves in these issues.

The publication projects presented during the conference also testify to this vitality. For example, a Lexicon of Putin’s Language studies the ideologemes that have appeared in official discourse since the beginning of the 2000s. Thirty authors are working on this project, studying the origin of these words, their use abroad…, as Michel Niqueux recently did in his *Vocabulary of Putinism (*Niqueux, 2025). The discussion focuses on the categories to be adopted as classification criteria: anti-Western orientation, function of internal control, pseudo-technological innovation, terms misused by the regime…?

There was also talk of a collection on the media.

All these promising endeavors cannot obscure two essential questions: do the traumas suffered (of various kinds) force silence or do they stimulate reflection? Is the experience of direct exposure to war, for those who lived through it, communicable, or must we accept the idea that emotion hinders understanding?

And above all: what awaits those who have left the country? How can they maintain a dialogue with those who remained? This question is all the more pressing given that it is no longer possible to foresee the end of this war in the near future.

References#

Castoriadis, Cornelius. 1981. Devant la guerre. Paris: Fayard.

Genté, Régis. 2024. Notre homme à Washington, Trump dans la main des Russes. Paris: Grasset.

Likhachev, Dmitri. 1973. Razvitie russkoi literatury X–XVII vekov. Leningrad: Nauka.

Likhachev, Dmitri. 1988. Poétique historique de la littérature russe, du Xe au XXe siècle. Paris: L’Age d’Homme.

Mann, Thomas. 1942. Deutsche Hörer! Stockholm: Bermann Fischer publishing house.

Mann, Thomas. 1943. Listen, Germany! New York: Alfred A. Knopf.

Mann, Thomas. 2004. Deutsche Hörer! Radiosendungen nach Deutschland aus den Jahren 1940-1945, 4th edition. Frankfurt am Main: Fischer.

Niqueux, Michel. 2025. Vocabulaire du poutinisme. Paris: À l’Est de Brest-Litovsk.

Pasternak, Boris. 1932. Vtoroe rozhdenie. Moskva: «Federaciia».

Pasternak, Boris. 1976. Stikhotvoreniia i poemy. Leningrad: Soveckii pisatel'.

DOI: 10.55167/789693b6c34b