Last week, Dmitri Spirin performed at Club Privé in Tallinn. Dmitri is the lead singer of the Russian punk band Tarakany.

I lived in Russia in 2000 and 2001 while gathering material for my doctoral dissertation. For a few months during that time, I lived in Moscow. Back then, it was common to find kiosks in almost every Moscow metro station that sold cassette tapes. The tapes cost next to nothing, and every time I passed one of these kiosks, I'd scan what they had and buy any cassette that looked like it might be from a punk band. At some point, that's how I ended up with a Tarakany tape.

I have to say, Tarakany didn't particularly impress me. They were a typical late-1990s/early-2000s punk band — somewhat melodic, somewhat fast, somewhat aggressive. It was the kind of new-school punk popular at the time, inspired by American bands like Green Day and Rancid. Back then, I was listening to a very different kind of punk — more in line with classic British working-class street punk. I first saw Tarakany live in the early 2000s in Potsdam. I only went because a friend's band was the opening act.

Somehow, I ended up being asked to interview Dmitri for Eesti Ekspress. At the time, I was in Almaty and Dmitri was somewhere in Germany. You see, Dmitri Spirin currently lives in Argentina. When Russia launched its full-scale war against Ukraine, Tarakany broke up. Some band members supported the war, others opposed it. Dmitri was firmly against it. He left the band and emigrated to Argentina. He came to Tallinn as a solo artist, performing both Tarakany songs and tracks from his new solo album. Dmitri Spirin's solo album is available on Spotify, and I recommend giving it a listen. It's anti-war and anti-Russian-regime. Through his lyrics, Dmitri clearly states that the so-called "good old days" are gone, Russia has changed and there's no going back.

Dmitri Spirin is one of those Russian exiles who actively supports Ukraine's fight against Russia. At his Tallinn concert, he spoke between songs about the need for all of us to support Ukraine. In response, about three-quarters of what had otherwise been an enthusiastic crowd fell silent. Why am I starting with Dmitri Spirin? Because attitudes toward Ukraine are the dividing line among Russian war refugees living abroad. Whether one supports Ukraine's fight against Russia or not — that's a crucial and deeply polarizing question. Russian war refugees living abroad generally prefer not to talk about Ukraine. They're much more comfortable talking about how authoritarian and unjust Putin's regime is. Supporting Ukraine isn't particularly popular among this crowd. Instead, many Russians in exile like to frame themselves as victims — they're victims of Putin's regime, going back home would mean facing repression and life is unfair. Then there's a small group of people who believe that regime change in Russia can only happen if Ukraine wins the ongoing war. That's why this minority is calling on others to support Ukraine's fight against Russian aggression.

I was recently in Georgia. When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, around 200,000 Russians fled to Georgia. Nowadays, there's a kind of Russian bubble in Georgia. There are "Russian" bars, restaurants, even bookstores. I visited a few of them. Near downtown Tbilisi, there's a punk-vegan café called Shpana, founded by Russian war refugees. It was the only place where I saw slogans and posters in support of Ukraine. Most Russian bars and cafés in Georgia ignore Ukraine entirely — along with politics in general. Visiting these so-called Russian establishments in Batumi was especially eye-opening. All the signs were in Russian, menus were in Russian — it felt like I'd been transported to Moscow or St. Petersburg. And that's the problem with the Russian exile community: they ignore the very reason they ended up in exile. Most Russians abroad prefer to ignore the war and, at the same time, build their own little version of Russia in exile. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

Coming back to Dmitri Spirin, he represents the segment of the Russian exile community that refuses to live in a bubble. People like him are a minority among war refugees, but they do exist. They're critical of Russia and Putin, but they believe that real change will only come if Ukraine wins the war. And people like Dmitri Spirin don't live in an exile-Russia bubble either. His concert in Tallinn was emotional and moving. When it came time for an encore, Dmitri insisted the audience request it in Estonian. Suddenly, the otherwise Russian-speaking crowd began chanting, "Veel üks lugu!" — "One more song!" You could say that what our various institutions in Estonia have failed to do in thirty years, one punk band managed to achieve in a single evening.

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