Оригинал материала
'I am despondent, shattered by despair'
Appeal from Penal Colony by Musician Andrey Shabanov — A Cry from a Political Prisoner Driven to Despair
18+. НАСТОЯЩИЙ МАТЕРИАЛ (ИНФОРМАЦИЯ) ПРОИЗВЕДЕН, РАСПРОСТРАНЕН И (ИЛИ) НАПРАВЛЕН ИНОСТРАННЫМ АГЕНТОМ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ИЗДАНИЕ «НОВАЯ ГАЗЕТА» ЛИБО КАСАЕТСЯ ДЕЯТЕЛЬНОСТИ ИНОСТРАННОГО АГЕНТА ИНТЕРНЕТ-ИЗДАНИЕ «НОВАЯ ГАЗЕТА»
Andrey Alexandrovich Shabanov, b. 1980
Penal Colony No. 10 (IK-10), Federal Penitentiary Service of Russia for Samara Region
WHY IT IS IMPORTANT
Andrey Shabanov received six years in a general-regime penal colony in the winter of 2025 under articles on "calls for terrorism" and "activity against state security" in his social media posts. The Military Court of Appeal left the sentence unchanged, after which in April the musician, who suffers from skin and spinal diseases, was transferred to IK-10 of the Samara Region. In the colony, Shabanov complained about threats from prisoners and harsh conditions of detention.
«Perhaps the worst thing that can happen to a person is becoming indifferent to everything happening inside and around them. But this apathy stems from losing faith in anything good. One could turn bitter against the whole world and choose that path. But when you are not ready to choose the side of evil, even at rock bottom... And at the same time, everything you hoped for fails to materialize, and in that moment, it feels as if you are dying inside. There is nothing left to hold on to. Everything you have tried has been in vain. And you realize that an emptiness is forming inside you. It makes you deeply uneasy; it becomes truly terrifying. Hopelessness is the most agonizing stage of realizing that nothing can be changed anymore.
Back at the very beginning, when I was cast down to the status of an 'outcast' ['obidos' / targeted prisoner status in the penal system — Ed.], I thought that massive complaints, my disability, public outcry, and sheer persistence would force the oversight bodies to fix my situation. But months have already passed since sending over two hundred complaints, visits by commissions, the prosecutor’s office, and the Public Oversight Commission ('ONK') — and nothing happens. The whole thing is a system designed to crush the individual, a system of humiliation. Everything is soaked in corruption, a web of mutual protection where everyone is complicit. No one intends to do anything.
Today is September 17, 2026. I recently said goodbye to my mother after a long-term visit. At around 4:00 PM, an official from the Federal Penitentiary Service (FSIN) arrived following an appeal by my lawyer. An interview was conducted. But I realized it was all a sham. The questions were selective, framed in such a way that the answers were already scripted by the system itself. They also questioned several people from my unit whose task was to frame and slander me. This system has no intention of resolving my problem.
After appealing to a general of the FSIN who cannot solve the problem, who actually can? I realized everything is futile. I realized I am destined to be an outcast with all the consequences that entails for all these years. Years! In my condition and in my mother’s condition. My mother — my only and dearest person. How hard it must be for her to watch what is happening to her only son.
Mom, you didn't deserve this. It is so hard for you, harder than it is for me, I know. Forgive me. Hope for the best, but I don't count on anything anymore. We saw each other just recently, and you saw what a dreadful state I am in. You saw my tears and my state of mind. Subdued and broken. You saw how I’ve changed, how much weight I’ve lost. I am despondent, shattered by despair.
Mom, you are still my guiding star and my beacon. You are a candle in the dark that is supposed to help me keep going — to serve this sentence all these years. Yet I am terrified that even this won't be enough. The system of suppression and humiliation hits so painfully hard. I fear I won't endure it.
I am still alive for one reason only — a remaining shred of faith that something could still happen. That something good will occur. I know it sounds like pure fantasy, but perhaps my last chance not to fade away completely is to hope that an exchange of Russian political prisoners to EU countries will happen. A swap. That single word warms me and keeps my mind focused. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that it might not happen. Could this option really fail to materialize?
The most awful thing that can happen is if a person loses faith and hope, and becomes indifferent to what is happening around and inside them. I am afraid of losing faith in humanity, of losing faith in the world. Over these years in confinement, I have been disappointed countless times — in friends, in the justice system, in my lawyer. Even now, there is still this sense of vulnerability. Yet I kept hoping for something. For that indefinable something that would save me.
Now things couldn't be any worse. I am still alive, and I want to live. I want to bring joy to people; I am a musician, even though I am losing my skills. I see no other way out than to be included in a prisoner swap group. I want to tear these pages up; I realize I am writing naive nonsense. But somewhere deep down, there is still a tiny spark of hope called 'what if.' What if it isn't crazy? What if it's actually possible? What if there are people out there who can organize the rescue of Russian political prisoners who are in dire straits — the disabled, the elderly, the outcasts?
Help us!»
