Unlike three other Americans, her brother, Marc Fogel — a 63-year-old former teacher at the Anglo-American School of Moscow — was not released this week. He was arrested in August 2021 and charged with smuggling marijuana, despite having a U.S. medical prescription for back pain. He received a 14-year sentence. As rumors circulated earlier this week about a potential prisoner swap, Anne faced the harsh reality that her brother would be excluded for the third time.
"Marc is giving up now; he's curling up," she told on Friday. "I know him to be a resilient person, and I know he'll recover, but this is heartbreaking. It's breaking him."
Thursday's dramatic deal was celebrated by many in the West and Russian circles, with 16 political detainees freed from the Kremlin's grasp. The final list of prisoners included eight foreign and dual citizens and eight Russians, though how these individuals were chosen remains a closely guarded secret among diplomats.
However, the majority of the approximately 1,000 political prisoners in Russian detention centers and penal colonies did not come close to being included. For them and their supporters, this week's significant exchange offers both a glimmer of hope and a crushing disappointment, as they remain uncertain about their situations. While foreign detainees often receive the most international attention, most political prisoners in Russia are Russian citizens. To the outside world and much of state-TV-viewing Russian society, they are largely invisible. To their marginalized but steadfast supporters, they are heroes.
One notable absence from the exchange was opposition politician Alexei Gorinov, who was the first person sentenced to a lengthy prison term (seven years) in July 2022 for criticizing Russia's war against Ukraine. Gorinov, 63, is currently in a detention center in Vladimir, east of Moscow, and suffers from a chronic lung disease. He was recently charged again, this time for "publicly justifying terrorism" after discussing the war with fellow inmates. Alongside Gorinov, other prominent prisoners include Yury Dmitriev, a historian of Soviet repression jailed years before Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine, and theater figures Yevgenia Berkovich and Svetlana Petrichuk, accused of "justifying terrorism" in a play.
These cases, along with hundreds of others, illustrate the Kremlin's expanding wave of repression that has permeated all aspects of society and shows no signs of easing.
A unique event
This week's deal was remarkable for its complexity and scale. Involving seven governments across three continents, it saw the exchange of 24 individuals, marking a significant event in the histories of Russia, the U.S., and Germany, and the largest such swap since the Cold War.
As discussions about a peace deal with Ukraine continue, even among some Western circles, Russia is keen to project itself as a reliable negotiating partner. However, a closer examination of the exchange suggests otherwise.
Initially, the swap was supposed to include Alexei Navalny, as confirmed by his allies and U.S. National Security Adviser Jake Sullivan. The expectation was that President Putin would trade Navalny for Vadim Krasikov, an FSB agent sentenced to life in Germany for murdering a Chechen dissident. However, as negotiations reportedly continued in December of last year, Navalny vanished, only to reappear in a penal colony in the Arctic and die under mysterious circumstances within weeks.
Navalny's team claims that Putin sanctioned Navalny's murder, believing it wouldn't hinder Krasikov's release. This seems to have been the case, as the swap proceeded without Navalny.
Typically, prisoner exchanges are reciprocal—a soldier for a soldier, a spy for a spy. But this week's exchange broke that convention. On Thursday, Russia sent journalists, politicians, and a historian, among others, on a plane. In return, Putin welcomed back spies, cybercriminals, and a murderer with Kremlin ties, with a red carpet reception.
Far from being embarrassed by the disparity, Moscow showcased it. Putin personally greeted the returning prisoners at Vnukovo airport, accompanied by top defense and security officials. He warmly embraced Krasikov and told the group he would soon discuss their "futures" with them.
In Putin's Russia, patriots receive state awards and political appointments, while traitors are eliminated—either by sudden death, as with Navalny; imprisonment; or, in rare cases like this week's, through an extraordinary swap.
Alexander Baunov, a former Russian diplomat and now a senior fellow at the Carnegie Russia Eurasia Center, noted that with this prisoner exchange, the Kremlin is signaling to Russians that they "shouldn't be afraid to commit crimes in the name of the regime; the Motherland will bail them out."
Years of negotiations
Getting all sides to agree to the swap reportedly took years, and the chances of a repeat anytime soon are slim.
For Marc Fogel’s sister, Anne, it is a bitter disappointment. She remains angry, believing the American government prioritized the release of dissident Russians over getting her brother home. “We played our hand,” she said.
Kremlin critics who still enjoy their freedom will do well to tread carefully, now that a few prison cells have become vacant. Even as talks on the swap were entering their final stages, Russian authorities launched new cases against several journalists over supposed ties to Navalny.
These cases are in addition to those involving Daniel Kholodny, a TV technician for Navalny’s YouTube channel, and three of Navalny’s lawyers, all of whom are currently in jail. “This is not a thaw or an act of humaneness,” Russian journalist Dmitry Kolezev wrote about the prisoner exchange. “[The Kremlin] needed their spies back — so they collected hostages and exchanged some of them. Others will remain in jail.”
The good news for them is that the swap suggests there are Western governments prepared to help them.
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