When I first started reporting “The Deserter,” I met with Idite Lesom, a group that helps Russian soldiers escape the war in Ukraine, whether they have already fought at the front lines or are trying to avoid deployment. I spent a few days learning more about its efforts and hearing about the situation for Russian officers, soldiers, drafted civilians, conscripts and deserters.

Idite Lesom connected me with deserters, and I began to interview them online through a special app the group recommends that it considers especially safe.

One of the first things that struck me was how economically motivated most enlistment was and how many benefits the Russian military promises young men (and it is overwhelmingly men) to entice them into service. I had previously reported an article about disenfranchised veterans of the U.S. armed forces who live in America’s colonies and territories, and while their motivation was also economic, there was a large dose of imbued patriotism as well. That did not seem to be the case for the average Russian soldier. (Of course, the group I spoke to might not have been the “average Russian soldier,” but even when discussing their former co-workers, they did not cite patriotism and love of country as a primary motivator for joining. The average annual salary in Russia is about $11,000; a sign-up bonus right now is more than $20,000.) As a rule, I never ask people to discuss anything they don’t want to talk about. I told these men that I wanted to hear about their lives and what happened to them. I recognized how dangerous it was for them to speak to a reporter. Then, after I had spoken to about a dozen deserters online, I decided I should start reporting on the ground.

As part of my reporting, I visited countries in the Collective Security Treaty Organization (The C.S.T.O. is Russia’s answer to NATO and includes Armenia, Belarus, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan and Tajikistan) and began to meet deserters in public spaces. I did this for their safety and for my own. I wanted them to feel free to leave, to give them space and control, the ability to observe if they were being followed, to see that I was a woman, there alone. I interviewed most people I met three times, for a total of about five to 10 hours each. I did this regardless of whether I was going to write in detail about the person in the article, in order to understand the Russian military more broadly and to establish which experiences were common across Russian units, bases, human-resources offices and ranks and which experiences were unique.

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We know little about what happens in the back rooms of our own military, much less what happens in Russia. Does hazing still exist? How does officer school work? What do people talk about on the base? How do they talk about Vladimir Putin? About the news? About the war on Ukraine? How do men address one another? What is the medical care like? How does a base’s canteen work? What does the base doctor do every day? (One doctor told me that his daily tasks included checking the hands and fingernails of food-service workers and testing the food to make sure it was not being poisoned.) What do men do for fun during their leave? How rigid is the system of officers and rank and file? What are the rituals that make Russian service Russian? I spoke to a number of men about the preparations for participating in the May 9 Victory Day parade. (Young men practice marching in step for nearly a year, starting with the specific position of their fingers and thumbs.)

ImageA photo taken by Ivan inside a military airplane on the way to Ukraine.

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