Civil Society, Foreign Agents, and Other Enemies of the State

Without civil society, there is no democracy. That is why the right to association is protected by Article 11 of the European Convention on Human Rights. This right can only be limited under very strict and narrowly defined conditions. The fact that civil society often annoys those in power is not among the exceptions that would justify measures against it.

And yet, more and more rulers across Europe are having increasing trouble with this. The trendsetter was — who else — Russian President Vladimir Putin.

On Valentine’s Day in 2013, Vladimir Vladimirovich addressed Russian intelligence officials to activate a law adopted a few months earlier on “foreign agents.”

“Any direct or indirect interference in the internal affairs of the Russian Federation by foreign agents is unacceptable,” he told the gathered domestic agents on the holiday of love. Smert shpionam — as Ian Fleming would put it.

From that day forward, all civil society organizations in Russia that were “funded from abroad” and engaged in “political activity” were required to register as ‘foreign agents’, submit to special financial oversight, and label every publication with a state-mandated self-denunciation.

The law didn’t explicitly ban their activities, but the stigma, which carries extremely negative connotations in Russia, effectively crippled them. Domestic donors withdrew, state-controlled media attacked them relentlessly, and most critically, people became afraid to engage with them or collaborate.

The law was designed to grant the regime maximum arbitrariness in defining both the “foreign” nature of funding and what qualifies as “political” activity.

Russia’s Ministry of Justice, for example, labelled funds from the Council of Europe as foreign — even though Russia was still a full member at the time and had contributed to that very budget.

The definition of “political activity” was even more arbitrary — essentially a label the state could slap on anyone it disliked.

Some NGOs tried to comply with the law, often with little success; some disbanded themselves, others persevered — until later legislation on “undesirable organizations” gave the Kremlin the power not only to disable but to outright ban civil society groups and threaten prosecution for anyone working with them.

A few NGOs moved their operations abroad.

One of them was the Moscow School of Political Studies, renamed in 2012 — in a failed attempt to dodge the foreign agents law — to the Moscow School of Civic Education.

Founded in 1993 in the kitchen of Lena Nemirovskaya and her husband Yuri Senokosov — she an esteemed art historian, he a PhD in philosophy — the school was born from the failed coup attempt against Mikhail Gorbachev in August 1991.

In just a few years, their kitchen project became a respected institution. Its mission was simple:

Democratic transition requires people who understand democratic values, the rule of law, and human rights.

Over nearly two decades, more than 15,000 individuals from government, political parties, media, civil society, and business were trained in its seminars held in an old Soviet hotel in Golitsyno near Moscow.

Under Boris Yeltsin, the school was even a partner of the state, a symbol to the outside world of Russia’s democratic commitment. It developed a vast network of prestigious partners at home and abroad and inspired similar initiatives in other post-Soviet and Eastern European countries.

The model was always the same: education and dialogue on the values and skills needed in a democracy — in cooperation with the Council of Europe, and, at least initially, with state support.

But then things began to change — first, as mentioned, in Russia. Yeltsin stepped down in 1999, replaced by Putin, who had a very different view of both democracy and civil society.

Yesterday’s allies in democratization became first a nuisance, then a threat, and finally outlaws.

What began in Russia soon spread elsewhere.

The Council of Europe’s political schools have never changed what they do: they still support and educate for democracy. What has changed is how some European politicians now see democracy.

Yesterday’s allies are now Enemy Number One.

A few years ago, during a directors’ meeting of all schools in Ljubljana, we discussed changing the name — partly because of the Russian experience.

“How about ‘Academy for Democracy’?” I suggested.

“For God’s sake, don’t mention democracy,” came the reply. “It’ll just get us in more trouble.”

Democracy — at least the kind based on the European Convention on Human Rights — is no longer a societal consensus in many parts of Europe. The pattern is the same everywhere; the only difference is intensity.

Here’s how it usually goes:

Phase One: Everyone is for democracy; democracy is for everyone.

Civil society is a partner to political authorities, who at least publicly profess support for democratic principles and active citizenship.

But since those in power often used these democratic slogans sloppily — one hand in the till, the other with fingers crossed — they paved the way for:

Phase Two: Anti-liberal populism.

This is where Putin’s distinction between “social” and “political” activity appears.

In the populist worldview, civil society may care for the weak — but must not question the systemic causes of poverty or propose solutions.

In this logic, liberal democracy is no longer seen as a shared civic value, but just one political ideology among many. Thus, advocating for democracy — though protected by the constitution — is now labelled “political activism” or even “partisan bias.”

This opens the door to stigmatization, suppression, or outright bans.

In this paradigm, it becomes imaginable to prosecute someone for reading the constitution in front of parliament, or for encouraging voter turnout.

When this starts happening, democracy is in trouble.

Phase Three: Full-blown authoritarianism.

Civil society and NGOs no longer exist. Only foreign agents and enemies of the state remain.

The circle is complete. No democracy. No freedom. Authoritarianism leads to repression, which can — ultimately — lead to aggression, both internal and external.

Russia’s war in Ukraine did not happen by accident.

It is a brutal but logical step in a long descent into Putin’s rabid, nationalist authoritarianism.

We see where it leads. But we mustn’t forget how it started: with the dismantling of political freedoms, corruption and cronyism, the persecution of independent media, political opposition, and civil society.

We mustn’t forget that on Valentine’s Day 2013, civil society in Russia became a “foreign agent” and Enemy Number One, simply for its “political activity.”

The Moscow School can no longer operate in Russia.

Its seminars are now held abroad — with partner institutions and universities from Berlin to Oxford.

Until recently, hundreds of participants from across the Russian Federation still attended, despite the risks and costs.

A few years ago, I spoke at one of their conferences at a hotel on the outskirts of Stockholm. At the end of the event, we found ourselves in a small room, passing around a bottle or two of vodka, wrapped in cigarette smoke — like old parties in Ljubljana’s student dorms.

“Ah, Matjaž,” they told me, “it’s beautiful here, but Golitsyno was even better. You must come. When we return to Golitsyno…”

That’s why I always accepted their invitation — the energy, inspiration, and deep admiration for people who, even in the most difficult circumstances, never gave up fighting for shared democratic and civilizational values, and never lost the courage or hope that decency, humanity, and reason would eventually prevail.

Despite everything.

Until February 24, 2022.

Until Phase Three.