The murder of Boris Nemtsov came as a shock to people around the world, but especially for those who knew him personally. Over the last few days, hundreds of journalists, writers, and politicians have published articles, op-eds, and social media posts about their personal encounters and conversations with Nemtsov. Elena Servettaz shares her memories of the leader of the Russian opposition.
On March 3, leader of the Russian opposition Boris Nemtsov was buried at the Troyekurovskoye Cemetery in Moscow. Photo: Denis Sinyakov
After my initial shock at receiving news of the murder of Boris Nemtsov (even if I still cannot believe that it is true), I suddenly remembered clearly where and under what circumstances I saw him for the very first time. Never before had I thought about it—I do not know why—but in the days since his death, this picture does not leave my mind. Perhaps it is in part because I lost my father early: he was just a year younger than Boris when he passed away.
In August 1998 I had just turned fifteen. Boris Nemtsov then served as Russia’s deputy prime minister. My father had taken me to the airport in Baikonur. It was an unbearable 40 degrees Celsius, and there was to be a manned launch, after which we were supposed to fly back to Moscow.
At the airport, my father called me over to him and in a particularly solemn voice said, “Look—it’s Boris Nemtsov.” Indeed the deputy prime minister had flown to see the cosmonauts before the launch, and he was flying back at the same time we were. He was wearing a snow-white shirt. He was young and very handsome. He was laughing a lot, and he had with him a whole bag of watermelons to take back home from Baikonur. In Central Asia, watermelons are special and they taste very sweet. I remember thinking at that moment that Boris’s children would enjoy the same watermelons as I.
A few years later, after we became acquainted professionally, this episode never came back to me. It seemed to me then that the first time I’d seen Boris Nemtsov was when I was just an intern on Svoboda Slova (Freedom of Speech), the program on NTV, which at the time was a free network. Later, when I had begun working in France, I interviewed Boris live on the radio. He never refused to talk, even if he was in a hurry. “Record, record!” he’d say.
All these radio broadcasts are resurfacing in my mind today. My French colleagues were happy when Boris gave them the opportunity to hear a voice of modern Russia other than those reciting the Kremlin version of events on the propaganda network RT. And what a voice...
When I started to work on my book, a collection of essays, Boris was among the first to respond and to agree to participate in the project. We were discussing Sergei Magnitsky’s death and the likelihood of the passing of a Magnitsky law in Europe. Every one of the participants in the project understood that such a law would not come easily, even if it had already passed in the United States, had been signed by the president, and was beginning to work.
Moscow was constantly putting obvious pressure on Europe to prevent the passing of such a law. But Boris believed that justice would prevail sooner or later. He said to me on the record, “The pro-Putin lobby [is made up of] people who are prepared to make a deal with the devil, with Putin, with anybody. People like that are unprincipled, pragmatic, hungry, cynical; there are quite a few of them in Europe. Putin is betting on them. He thinks all Europeans are like that, and that’s a mistake. But it is true that he has managed to pull off a ‘Schröderization’ (buying politicians, businessmen, etc.) of Europe. In my opinion, not everybody is like that in Europe. I think that he has not managed to buy off members of the European Parliament.”
Boris went on to say that Sergei Magnitsky was sincere and honest. “For me, Sergei is of course a martyr. An innocent was killed,” he added. Who, then, in 2013, would have thought that Boris Nemtsov would himself one day become such a martyr?
“Do you know what I think is the biggest problem with Putin? That he flouts the Ten Commandments. He thinks that murder is not a sin; he thinks that theft is not a sin. He thinks that all the Commandments are nothing in comparison [to] personal loyalty and allegiance. The man is deeply immoral. This is why we find the regime deeply immoral.”
Of Putin, Boris told me, “Putin and I have totally different concepts of what is good and what is bad. What is good for him (this includes murder and loyalty) is for me a mortal sin. Do you know what I think is the biggest problem with Putin? That he flouts the Ten Commandments. He thinks that murder is not a sin; he thinks that theft is not a sin. He thinks that all the Commandments are nothing in comparison [to] personal loyalty and allegiance. The man is deeply immoral. This is why we find the regime deeply immoral.”
We witness almost daily how deeply immoral power is in Russia: rabid propaganda, illegal arrests and searches, pre-determined sentences, real prison terms.
One year ago, in February 2014, I went to Moscow. My first stop was a rally in support of the defendants in the Bolotnaya Case, when the Moscow tribunal sentenced eight of those involved. I called Boris and we agreed to catch up in the center of the capital. He was right on time, while I was twenty minutes late when I finally arrived on Manezhnaya Square. Boris had already been arrested. Nevertheless, we met on February 25 in the courthouse where the judge was to decide whether or not to leave deputy of the Yaroslavl region Boris Nemtsov in custody for ten days for “disobeying a legal police order.” Nemtsov even made a joke about that. He told me, “Well, it’s good you were late, otherwise you’d be sitting here with me now.” Boris’s wife, Irina, brought him a homemade lunch. He laid it out on the table and fed everyone who was there. Then he called Dina Yakovlevna: “Mom, do not worry. I’m fine. We are waiting.”
“She’s a real Jewish mother,” he said, laughing after getting off the phone. “And you, Lena, you should also eat. Who knows how long we should stay here.”
Merely to have a cigarette in the restrooms, we had to be accompanied by a police officer. But Boris was friendly with him and even joked with him. Then one of the journalists came to us and said that the reporter from RAPSI (the Russian legal information agency), who was sitting in the front row, had just received a text message saying, “For Nemtsov nothing to change.” Even before the verdict was announced, we understood that Boris would have to complete his full ten-day term in jail. The judge then read the verdict and it miraculously coincided. Nemtsov was calm, but I was still shaking with anger, refusing to believe. “But she received a message before the sentence! How is this possible?!” I exploded. “It’s possible. Everything is in order, they’re just doing their job,” said Boris.
The last time I was in Moscow was a few days before the beginning of the new year. And again, it was on the day of a demonstration on Manezhnaya Square, this time in support of Alexei Navalny. Before the rally, I arranged to meet a relative of one of my Paris acquaintances to give him a small package. Upon learning that after meeting with him I would be going to Manezhnaya Square, this complete stranger actually told me, “Putin is the only normal person. He does everything right. And all your Navalnys and Nemtsovs... Tomorrow, if the motherland gave me the order to go to Donbass, I would go. And if it said to pick up a machine gun and go to your Manezhnaya Square, I would go, too.” I got up and left. And just like my first meeting with Boris Nemtsov when I was a teenager, I had also forgotten this conversation. That is, until last Friday, when I received a message letting me know that Boris was dead. It seemed that “the Motherland” had ordered someone to take a Makarov gun and go, not to Manezhnaya, but to Moskvoretsky Bridge near the Kremlin.
