For 63-year-old veteran Russian politician Boris Nadezhdin, exile in Paris was never part of the plan. Speaking to Agence France-Presse from a suburban Paris hotel, the one-time Kremlin insider-turned-peace advocate says he remained in Russia as long as he possibly could, carefully navigating shifting unwritten rules around dissent until even his mild criticism of Moscow’s ongoing military campaign in Ukraine crossed an uncrossable line.
Once a little-known token figure in Russia’s liberal opposition, Nadezhdin carried deep ties to the current Russian leadership: he has met President Vladimir Putin in person, sharing tea on multiple occasions shortly after Putin rose to power 25 years ago. He previously collaborated with Sergei Kiriyenko, now one of Putin’s most influential senior advisors, and spent years appearing on state-aligned Russian political television programming. Following the 2022 full-scale invasion of Ukraine, however, the Kremlin erased even the smallest hints of domestic political pluralism, outlawing all public criticism of the war and forcing leading government critics into exile, prison, or an early grave.
Nadezhdin initially believed he could avoid repression by sticking to the state’s evolving rules. But his public calls for a negotiated peace and measured criticism of what the Kremlin calls its “special military operation” — now in its third year — made him a target. In 2024, he launched a long-shot bid for the Russian presidency, quickly becoming a rallying point for widespread hidden anti-war sentiment, with viral images of long lines of his supporters circulating across the globe. The Kremlin ultimately blocked his candidacy.
By July this year, Nadezhdin learned that any further challenge to the Kremlin could result in a lengthy prison sentence. When he attempted to register for September’s tightly controlled parliamentary elections, authorities labeled him a “foreign agent” — a designation widely used to silence dissenting voices. Citing his pre-existing heart condition, Nadezhdin said he feared he would not survive incarceration, so just days after receiving a summons for official questioning, he slipped out of Russia via Kazakhstan, leaving his elderly parents and children behind. Within days of his escape, Russia’s only registered anti-war party, Yabloko, was also blocked from contesting the September polls.
Nadezhdin says his campaign before it was shut down revealed extraordinary pent-up demand for political change and an end to the war. “I met with hundreds, perhaps thousands of young Russians. They all say they want peace, and they all want a return to normal life,” he explained. “That is why they did not let me or Yabloko run. Putin is convinced that the entire country supports him and that victory for the Russian military is just around the corner.”
His comments echo growing visible impacts of the war inside Russia itself, as Ukraine escalates drone strikes on Russian energy and logistics infrastructure to bring the conflict home to ordinary citizens and disrupt Moscow’s war economy. “Every day Ukrainian drones fly over Russian territory and people die — even children,” Nadezhdin said. “There are gasoline shortages, internet outages, and prices keep climbing. If you walk through any cemetery in a Russian city, you will see immediately how many young men have been killed.”
While independent polling on public opinion in Russia is heavily constrained by strict censorship laws, recent data from the Levada Center — Russia’s last major independent pollster, itself labeled a foreign agent by Moscow — shows 62 percent of Russian respondents support immediate peace talks with Ukraine, compared to just 28 percent who back continuing the military campaign. Nadezhdin added that even many members of Russia’s ruling elite are privately frustrated with the war, but fear repression too much to speak out. “They all toe the official line, and they tell me: ‘Boris, you understand. One wrong step, and we are ruined,’” he said.
Observers note that while Putin’s public approval has declined from its peaks, his hold on political power remains unchallenged. But Nadezhdin argues that further escalation of the conflict will continue to erode public support over time. “After three years of war, Russian voters understand very well the real human and economic cost of these so-called great victories,” he said.
Nadezhdin, a trained physicist who previously served in Russia’s parliament and 1990s federal government, says he has no regrets about his past cooperation with Russian authorities. “I would have made a good European politician,” he joked. “A European politician knows how to seek compromise, find common ground, read the public mood and adapt.”
Though he has received offers of assistance from diplomats in multiple countries, Nadezhdin chose to settle temporarily in France. The father of four still has no clear long-term plans: he does not know where he will live, how he will support himself, or when he will be able to return to Russia. He remains hesitant to force his family to uproot their lives to join him in exile. “I don’t have a clear plan for the coming weeks or months,” he said. “But I will keep working until I can go home to Russia again.”