How independent journalists work in Russia: fear, pseudonyms and concern for heroes

18+ This material (information) was produced, distributed and (or) sent by a foreign agent Media project “New Tab” or relates to the activities of a foreign agent Media project “New Tab” Author Editorial board “New Tab” May 20, 2026 collection read: 9 min.

Constantly gaining the trust of heroes, thinking about how not to harm them with your publications, and also listening to openly hateful statements and remaining calm at the same time - these are the everyday life of many journalists in Russia in 2026. There are more and more restrictions associated with repressive laws, and there are fewer and fewer options for how to work professionally in such conditions. The authors of New Tab told us what obstacles they face and how they cope with them.

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Anonymous author: “Almost every topic requires some kind of heroism”

One day, my fellow editor was on an internship in the United States: there she traveled around the state with journalists from some small regional media outlet and watched how they worked. Then she said: here is a journalist working on a topic about a guy who received donations to build a house because he is a good person. While working, she wrote down the hero’s words on her laptop, and when she didn’t have time, she stopped the conversation and asked her to repeat what was said. Then she said goodbye and handed in the material a few hours later.

Then, because of this small and insignificant scene, I suddenly realized that there are places in the world where journalism is an ordinary job, like an IT specialist, a psychologist, a barista or a turner in a factory. Somehow I even felt envious, because in Russia journalists have not had the opportunity to experience such blessings for many years: almost every topic requires some kind of heroism. One minute you’re hiding from shelling, and then you’re looking at destroyed buildings and cars while you’re writing a report; then you prove to the police that you are not participating in the picket, but are simply talking about it; then you listen to drunken military men whose mood changes every minute; then you come to the police to find out where your colleague, whom you don’t even know, has gone.

All this, it must be said, leaves a strong imprint on the personality. For example, I am no longer surprised by almost anything - neither the environmental disaster in Tuapse, nor the slaughter of cattle in the Novosibirsk region, nor the blocking of the RKN, nor the fact that Victoria Bonya talks about all this on Solovyov’s air. Now I have the feeling that I have acquired some kind of quantum properties in this world: on the one hand, I am like a rushing NPC in someone’s sick simulation, on the other hand, I am a powerless outside observer looking at it through a small window.

A non-player character in video games and tabletop role-playing games who is controlled by the computer or GM rather than the player.

This background also developed unbearable paranoia in me. I must say that I’m not too afraid of the obvious manifestations of war like shelling and drone attacks (I’ve seen enough of that), but I’m quite afraid of what happens to people. I’m worried that when I contact the hero, instead of meeting me in a coffee shop, he will lead me into a trap with the FSB; that early in the morning it is not the gas service employees who knock on the door, but the security forces; that in an unfamiliar company I don’t filter the market enough. Intellectually, I understand that this fear is irrational and rather inflated, but the probability that intuition will not fail exists, right?

And finally, I don’t understand what I can do with this world. In a normal, non-war-poisoned universe, my answer to this question would be simple: record reality and tell stories. But now the diversity of reality has been reduced to fairly simple, uniform, recurring terrible events - what can you say that’s new?

But in Russia there are journalists who find something to say: at least they try not to give a damn about their mission - to record reality and tell stories. Oh, how I wish I could tell you about the guy who received money for his house because he is a good person.

Ivan Kaygorodov: “Caring for heroes is increasingly beginning to conflict with journalistic standards”

There are usually two problems with any restrictions: the first is the restrictions themselves, and the second is that you very quickly get used to them and begin to consider them the norm.

I usually don’t work with fundamentally sensitive or super-problematic topics on the verge of the current Criminal Code of the Russian Federation, and many of my stories are relatively light, but even here you automatically filter everything that will be published regarding this or that hero: will it cause problems for him, will it worsen his situation, will he set him up, and so on.

It is normal to care about heroes, but, unfortunately, the more vague the repressive legislation, the more total this concern becomes and the more often it begins to conflict with journalistic standards (which, for example, do not require special approvals where there is no request for it). This is probably one of the most difficult moments - trying to balance between being on the safe side and respecting personal professional boundaries.

Oleg Artyushenko: “A person wants to solve a problem, but is afraid to rise above sea level”

As recently as April, I was on a business trip in one of the regions of Russia. I wrote a text about people affected by the war, for whom the state did nothing to help. This mission came after more than two months of searching for a suitable hero. And no, there are a lot of dissatisfied people, it’s just that people made complaints to me about why I bothered with them at all. And I climbed because I saw comments from these people in the public pages of authorities and officials: “nobody cares about us” and “nobody wants to listen to us.” I came and said: I don’t care, I want to listen to you, tell me.

A person wants his problem to be solved, but is afraid to rise above sea level (a sea of ​​fear, self-pity or something else, I don’t fully understand). That is, they wanted the journalist to write that injustice was happening, hoping that this publication would help solve the problem, but, they say, please write not about me. How will your problem be solved, dear? Even the lawyers of these people refused to communicate.

So that you understand: from the Rostov, Tambov, Saratov, Tver, Leningrad, Lipetsk, Voronezh regions and Krasnodar Territory, only one person, one woman, was not afraid to meet me.

Half-religionists of the Russian side The small people, who survived collectivization and Stalinist repressions, dispersed from their land. Report on those who remained

Anonymous author: “I don’t even want to imagine what all this will develop into next”

Some of my texts did not work out because all the potential heroes categorically sent me, others are stalled due to the reality in which the journalists who remain in Russia have to live and work.

For example, one day I came on a business trip to the village and spent the whole day at production. I was taken into the workshops, shown the work processes, and introduced to the employees. Even the local dogs, who at first greeted me with dissatisfied loud barking, eventually allowed themselves to be petted. In general, everything was fine, but I turned a deaf ear to the production owner’s reasoning that freelance journalists are now sponsored by Soros.

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On the second day, when we were preparing to visit the remaining workshops with a photographer, an office employee suddenly demanded from me a link to my texts. I literally wrote that we can come only after they “study” my articles.

And if on the first day I spoke freely with the workshop workers, then on the second this office employee literally followed on my heels. I especially remember the moment when one of the interlocutors mentioned how supposedly Ukrainian scammers called him and tried to raise the topic of war, but my accompanying person immediately pulled him back - quite gently, but persistently.

After returning, I had to call the owner of the production several more times, and from his answers in telephone conversations it was clear that he sometimes chooses his words very carefully. The text was eventually published, but it turned out to be long-suffering for a bunch of reasons, including because of this wary attitude towards journalists.

Caution in general is now characteristic of many heroes of our stories - even anonymous ones. For our part, we are doing everything possible so as not to harm them, but this complicates and slows down the work on the texts. What all this - human caution, our own limitations - will develop into further, I don’t even want to imagine. But while I can still write, I will continue to do so.

Maria Polesskaya: “Often you can’t tell even your friends on social networks that you wrote this text”

With each text you now go through several circles of hell, but not without pleasant moments, of course - otherwise we wouldn’t be working here.

For me this cycle looks like this. First, you find a topic and light up: it seems that now everything will work out! And then problems arise, inspired by our era, which journalists do not have in normal realities.

How should I introduce myself? Should we say right away that the publication is a foreign agent or a little later? Is it safe for me or not? Should I immediately work under a pseudonym or should I still reveal my real name and surname to the characters? At the very first stage of work, this torment begins and, what is most difficult, you cannot choose one approach and work in it, because each case is individual and the realities are constantly changing.

Communicating with characters is one of the most enjoyable parts of the job , I love talking to people. And it's easy, but until the first trigger. Here is a sweet woman, who just seemed very empathetic, says that “it would be better to destroy the crests.” And you have some relatives in Ukraine. Here is a hero, whom you sympathize with in his life circumstances, who approves of the imprisonment of oppositionists. Do you have friends among political prisoners? Here is another heroine who says that foreign agents are traitors to the homeland, but you live in this homeland, and even continue to work in such conditions. Of course, professionalism over the years helps not to get involved in disputes and just listen calmly, but I would be lying if I said that this does not affect the emotional state of the reporter.

After the interview, you sit down to write the text and measure seven more times whether it will harm your hero. You know almost for sure that he will harm you. Most of our authors, unfortunately, work with topics that have serious risks: both physical and legal.

And finally the text comes out. In general, journalism is such a profession that hard work is usually compensated by impact (helping people solve their problems after publicity) and social stroking towards the journalist (we don’t work for vanity, of course, but it was the cherry on the cake of your work). Nowadays, most of us are forced to publish under a pseudonym. Often you can’t even tell your friends on social networks that you wrote this text.

And then the text comes out, and just reading it warms your soul, it’s really nice. As for the rest, yes, this is the job now.