Activism
Semyon Koshchey is an anti-fascist from Yekaterinburg. In 2022, he went through the walls of prison and a psychiatric hospital for a fight with “bones” (neo-Nazis) in St. Petersburg. It seemed the worst was over—but this year he was taken again. This time, for an “Antifascist Action” sticker. Torture, pressure, terrorism charges, and an attempt to break him through punitive psychiatry. We spoke with Koshchey about what it means to be an anti-fascist in Russia, where even a sticker on a pole can cost you your freedom.
— Hi. Tell us who you are, what you did before your arrest, and how you came to anti-fascist views?
— Before the arrest, I was focused on my professional activity—I’m a chef. I came to this movement when I was still a 15-year-old kid, studying in college. There were these two punk guys in my group. Somehow, I got fired up by their ideas; I liked them. First, I started wearing a mohawk and all that wild stuff. Then I switched over to the skinhead scene. And well, I’m still a skinhead to this day. Before the arrest, it was just the normal life of an 18 or 19-year-old hooligan with certain views, you know.
— How and under what circumstances did you place that “Antifascist Action” sticker?
— It happened in mid-April. I was just heading to work, and for me, it’s a routine action, you know. I just took it and put up a sticker. The next day, I was detained by two police officers. First, they took me to the 25th precinct in St. Petersburg. Then the “Center E” (anti-extremism unit) and FSB guys got involved. There were also two regular detectives from the district where I “messed up.”
I had a ton of Nazi channels in my Telegram—I was monitoring them. Ukrainian ones too. So they started claiming I was a Ukrainian terrorist, that I had a handler, and that I was planning a terrorist attack. Naturally, I denied everything. Then they moved me to the 28th precinct, where they started using physical and emotional abuse.
— Can you tell us exactly what happened?
— Yeah. In the 28th precinct, a detective started shoving papers at me. I didn’t really read them, but the words “terrorism” and “Nazism” caught my eye. I told him I wouldn’t sign anything and that he could go to hell. For that, I got a couple of hits to the solar plexus. Then came threats that he would rape me and I’d go to prison as a “downcasted” inmate. He was certain I’d go down. I said something like “you can’t scare a hedgehog with a bare ass”—and got beaten even more. Then they locked me in a cell for 8 hours. I got hungry and started banging on the door—a patrol officer opened it, sprayed me with pepper spray, and locked it again. I just took a dump in their cell. They’re the ones who have to clean it anyway. Two days later, they let me go.
My lawyer later told me that they forgot to turn off the microphone in the reception area, and she heard the head of the 28th precinct scolding the detective: “You can’t get him locked up? Do I have to teach you how to do your job?” I don’t know how the conversation went after that.
— Did they use a taser on you?
— Yes, during my first arrest in 2022, when I served two years. It was shortly before the guys in the Tyumen Case were picked up. I was detained for a fight with Nazis in St. Petersburg and had left for Yekaterinburg. The “Center E” guys came for me there, calling in a SWAT team with assault rifles and shields—total nonsense.
— I heard they applied “red psychiatry” to you. Tell us how that was.
— Yeah, I actually requested a forensic psychiatric evaluation myself during the first arrest in 2022. Because I was facing five years of hell. In prison, the guys advised me to “play the fool.” They took me to Gribakina—a psychiatric hospital under the guard of the Federal Penitentiary Service in St. Petersburg.
The doctors are like prison wardens: they don’t care about anyone as long as there are no problems. But the nurses and orderlies are as miserable as can be. Real psychiatric patients annoy them, so they take it out on everyone. They can inject you with oil-based Haloperidol for no reason—the substance absorbs over two to three weeks, and the whole time you feel like you’re going through heroin withdrawal. You just go up to ask when the phone calls are—they tackle you and inject you.
— How did the cops and doctors treat you, specifically as a political prisoner?
— There were no insults regarding my views, but everyone was just indifferent. If I were part of the “Set” (Network) case or the Tyumen case, there would have been more pressure. As it was—I just beat up some idiots.
— What was the scariest part of this whole story?
— The loneliness and the fear for my future. There were moments in my case that I will never tell anyone. None of my friends knew where I was. I was taken—and I just vanished. For six months, I thought everyone had abandoned me. Only later did the first person find out where I was being held.
— Why do you think the state reacts so violently to anti-fascism?
— Because anti-fascists are a threat to the regime. They are often smart people who understand what is happening. They don’t watch TV; they don’t get fooled. They have their own opinions.
— What helped you keep going?
— Reading. I read a lot—even though the literature was trash. I made all sorts of things out of bread—chess pieces, rosaries—and sold them to other cells for cigarettes.
— What was the worst book?
— It was so terrible I don’t even remember the title. Something like Ancient Rus in modern times, with Zmey Gorynych as a cyborg with lasers. I read it and prayed for the author to stop using drugs.
— How did your life change after you got out? What was the first thing you did?
— I hugged my friends and my mother. Then I got trashed like an animal within the next two hours. I missed the feeling of intoxication. Then I went to my ex—a nurse from the psych ward, we started dating there. We got high, slept together—you could say I broke the system that way. Then I went to my skinhead friends; we drank, got high, and just spent time together.
— What are your plans, goals, and dreams now? Are you afraid for your safety?
— The plan is to save money and move to France, to Provence. Study at Le Cordon Bleu, become a great chef, earn a decent living, and help my people get out. While I’m in Russia—I am afraid. They can come, grab me, take me to a basement, and torture whatever they need out of me. They have no law, no honor. They are jackals in uniform.
— What would you say to those who consider anti-fascism to be extremism?
— You can’t hide the truth behind an artificial template. You can think whatever you want, but if you look into the essence of Antifa and anarchism, you’ll understand why it’s all happening and why it’s right.
— And to those who are going through the same things you did?
— Just don’t forget that people are waiting for you on the outside. No one has abandoned you. And sooner or later, the walls will fall.