The thought that I’m working for killers got stuck in my head

I never cared about politics, but in 2019 my wife got pregnant, and I asked myself: “Sasha, what kind of country are you going to leave your kids?” I realized I knew nothing about the country. On TV, everything’s wonderful, we’re ahead of the whole planet, but in real life: there’s no justice in courts, corruption, diplomas are bought and sold, the streets are filthy, everything’s a mess.

For the past four years, I’ve been working at the Trubodetail factory in Chelyabinsk. I weld pipes and joints, using semi-automatic welding. The production schedule is based on shifts: if it falls on a weekend, we still work.

In January 2021, [when] people were protesting Navalny’s arrest, the boss scheduled us to work on Saturday — so we wouldn’t go to the rally. They even blocked my pass so I couldn’t leave the factory. I just jumped over the turnstile and ran [to the rally]. I was detained there and locked up for 13 days.

From that moment on, I started standing up for my rights at work. Conflicts with the boss began. They stripped me of my bonus — which is half my salary. I challenged the decision: filed a complaint with the labor disputes commission, but lost, because the employer has six representatives plus three from the union, and it’s just me against them.

Then they started fabricating violations. I went to the bathroom, came back, and: “Write an explanation. Where were you for 5 minutes?” I was fired twice, and both times I got reinstated through the courts. I kept going to protests anyway — it’s none of their damn business where I am, where I go, and how.

As soon as the war started, the bosses came running to us and promised everything would be wonderful. Said there’d be a ton of contracts [for manufacturing pipes]. And where are they? And besides: where are they going to buy equipment? We used to buy it from Germany, and then Germany imposed sanctions. Management says: “Well, from China, or we’ll develop our own technology.” I ask: “What stopped you from developing your own before?” They answer: “It was more profitable to buy than to innovate.” Now they’re paying the price for that approach — there’s still no equipment.

On March 2, Navalny issued an appeal from prison and said: “Get out, protest.” I went. They were already waiting for me at my building entrance. On the street, some colonel catches up and shouts: “Levanov, Levanov, wait!” Shows me a photo: a guy standing there, face not visible, defecating on someone’s car. I tell them it’s not me, and they respond: “We’ll check, we’ll sort it out, but for now let’s go to the station.”

At the police station, they hit me with a stun gun, mocked me, tried to shove my head into a garbage can. I filed a complaint against them with the Investigative Committee, but got a refusal. I [because of my protest participation] constantly have problems. One ends, and they pile on another. I already have fines, a case for discrediting the army — that too. But I won’t pay them, so the money doesn’t go to the budget.

My wife has seen what they do to me and what state I come home in from the police station — beaten up. I wouldn’t say she supports me, but she knows my position. She sometimes says: “We have children, don’t stick your neck out.” I tell her: “I don’t want our kids to live the same life I have: hopeless, rightless, and lawless.” I don’t want them living in the same kind of depravity.

Every morning at our [factory] meetings, I’d always bring up the war, but my colleagues didn’t even want to listen. Because it didn’t concern them. They’d say: “It’s contract soldiers fighting — they knew what they signed up for. That’s their choice.”

When the mobilization started, [the commissariat] came to the factory. I wasn’t at work. Colleagues told me that so-and-so had been pulled off their shifts. I tell them: “What the hell, guys — I told you not to go to the commissariat!” If I’d been there, I would’ve stopped them from being taken. Or at least caused some kind of scene. But they just quietly went along.

“How did you let Lyoshka slip through? Why did you hand the kid [to the commissar], why didn’t you fight for him?” — I ask the workers. And they: “His father’s about to come — go pester him.” They started growling at me. I say: “I didn’t sign the mobilization order — your Putin did — so take it up with him. Don’t come at me. I told you what could happen, and you didn’t believe me — well, here you go, politics came to your family. You didn’t want it — but it came.”

I did my compulsory military service. I’m a T-72B tank commander, junior sergeant. Although I could’ve skipped service entirely, being the fifth child in the family. But my dad decided I had to go, since both brothers had served. My father said: “What, are you disabled or something? Go serve.”

The army experience was terrible. Every officer was arrogant. They treated soldiers like slaves, like cattle. They beat us and taught us nothing. There were virtually no actual classes.

The bosses are only happy to send people to war. There’s no work anyway. Employees walk around doing nothing. Today they come in: move this from one corner to another. Tomorrow the next shift comes: move it back. I was told that 70 people total were taken from the enterprise. All young, under 35. I’m furious at the management.

I no longer have the heart for work. I weld, but there’s no interest. I used to know I was doing good work — especially since good welders are fewer and fewer. After all, if something happens to Putin, the pipes will remain and be useful. But they [the bosses] killed those guys — they sent them to their deaths. The thought that I’m working for killers got stuck in my head. And I quit.

Before, I’d sometimes hear: “You’re a good welder, but what good are you? You’ll corrupt the team, start revolutions.” I’ve also met employers who agreed on a rate of 300 rubles per hour, and when they found out I was against Putin — paid 400. Now I’ll have a question for them: “Are you for the war? If yes, I definitely won’t work for you. If against, then we’ll work together.” They exist. I’ll find them.

Right now, my wife is coming back from maternity leave. I’ll be the nanny — I’ll stay with the kids, she’ll work. I hope they don’t mobilize her.