The Voice and Its Audience

The premise of understanding exit as voice rests on the concept of citizenship as an identity role. This role is cultivated through socialization into various political communities and institutions, with the state serving as a reservoir of meanings and sites essential for self-understanding (Berger and Luckmann Reference Berger and Luckmann1967; Tilly Reference Tilly2002). The plurality of meanings attributed to the state extends beyond its role as a service provider or the political regime it upholds.Footnote ⁶

Even Albert Hirschman (Reference Hirschman1978) acknowledged the complexity of the state in his article “Exit, Voice, and the State.” He also recognized that exit can be related to the idea of voice, particularly in his analysis of East Germany (GDR). In a later amendment to his original argument, Hirschman posited that exit and voice can interact in a “seesaw” pattern, either undermining or reinforcing each other (Hirschman Reference Hirschman1993, 176–77). For example, while private exits from an authoritarian state may weaken domestic protests, Hirschman observed that in the GDR, the increasingly public nature of exits bolstered dissent by affirming to citizens that they were not alone (198). This nuanced interpretation significantly influenced subsequent scholarship, which explored how exit might amplify domestic voice or evolve into voice after exit (Burgess Reference Burgess2012; Pfaff and Kim Reference Pfaff and Kim2003).

However, even the amended “seesaw” model preserves a conceptual distinction between exit and voice, treating them as codeterminative but separate. Critics have argued that this perspective reflects a narrow understanding of citizenship, as it neglects the affective dimension of identification with fellow citizens and the broader community (see Benhabib Reference Benhabib2018, 146). From this viewpoint, citizenship entails the development of social bonds within communities, where individuals gain respect, build reputations, and—most crucially—form their self-understanding (see Stets and Burke Reference Stets and Burke2000). For instance, Saskia Sassen (Reference Sassen, Isin and Turner2002) has highlighted the potential for local, non-national forms of citizenship.

Citizenship as an expression of collective identity is intertwined with the modern process of nation building, which constructs a collective “we” (see B. Anderson Reference Anderson2006). On some accounts, a liberal conception of political community is predicated on citizens sharing a national identity that fosters a sense of belonging (Mason Reference Mason2000, 115–47). However, others caution against conflating citizenship with national identity (see Williams Reference Williams, McDonough and Feinberg2003). Even narrower “republican” conceptions of citizenship, which emphasize participation and engagement in political institutions,Footnote ⁷ have been argued to rely on nationality as a key source of individual identity (see, e.g., Miller Reference Miller2000).

At the same time, other identity-based critiques highlight the need for a more nuanced understanding of citizens’ identification with their political community (or communities). Stronger bonds of identification often emerge among individuals living in shared localities, building lifeworlds together, or collaborating on common projects.Footnote ⁸ These dynamics are evident in liberal democratic and republican critiques of national identity, which emphasize subnational cultural and political allegiances.Footnote ⁹ Moreover, a critical literature on national citizenship points out the possibility of further identity splits in the form of “glocal” civic identity (Tully Reference Tully2014, 74–83).

These overlapping forms of self-identification are crucial for individual self-understanding. They shape what it means to be a citizen of a given polity, with its shared—but often contested—values and meanings. This self-understanding extends beyond transactional engagements with the state as a service provider or the identification with the state as a political institution that regimes often promote. Instead, it encompasses multifaceted and multilayered affiliations, spanning national, subnational, professional, subcultural, and other civic identities.Footnote ¹⁰

Acknowledging these distinctions also necessitates recognizing the potential for conflicting allegiances. For some citizens, national identity might outweigh ideological commitments, while for others, local identities may take precedence over national ones. These dynamics have important implications for the concept of voice. First, if such identities are central to a citizen’s sense of belonging, leaving a community may be possible, but severing ties with it entirely often represents a profound personal crisis. Second, a citizen’s voice may be directed more strongly toward one identity group than another. For example, a citizen who denies the legitimacy of their central government might choose to engage with a relevant local community instead, using political signaling to foster dialogue. While such scenarios are conceivable even in democratic settings—for example, when supporters of a losing political party express dissatisfaction—they are especially pronounced under authoritarian regimes. For dissenters, protests against the government often resonate more deeply with communities of like-minded citizens than with the regime itself.

Dissent under the Russian authoritarian regime has mobilized along various lines, including local and regional identities—particularly in cases of environmental protest—as well as ethnic identities, professional groups, and social movements (Gabowitsch Reference Gabowitsch2017; Semenenko Reference Semenenko2015; Sundstrom, Henry, and Sperling Reference Sundstrom, Henry and Sperling2022). The dissenting voice articulated by members of these diverse groups not only targets authoritarian abuses of power but also seeks to constitute the groups themselves. For instance, during the massive protests against electoral irregularities in 2011, one of the most popular slogans was “You don’t represent us,” reclaiming the “us” for protestors and distancing dissenters from the regime (see Tsvetkova and Piper Reference Tsvetkova and Piper2011).

Electoral authoritarian regimes like Russia’sFootnote ¹¹ are infamous for widespread electoral irregularities. Most Russian elections over the past two decades have been marred by such practices (see, e.g., Golos 2022; Klimek et al. Reference Klimek, Yegorov, Hanel and Thurner2012), turning elections into hollow procedures devoid of authentic voice. This, combined with a growing alienation of citizens from power, has fueled the tendency of dissenting voices to differentiate between the Russian political regime and civil society—viewed as communities of shared meanings. To paraphrase Michael Walzer (Reference Walzer1970, 18), belonging to the Russian state would constitute the least willful membership that clears the room for obligations generated by a willful membership in one’s community of social circles.Footnote ¹² In this context, authoritarian regimes are instrumental in underscoring the reorientation of voice from the state to more meaningful communities (see also Morris, Semenov, and Smyth Reference Morris, Semenov, Smyth, Morris, Semenov and Smyth2023).

While electoral irregularities suppress one key channel of dissenting voice, the Russian regime has also aggressively curtailed other forms of public expression. The poisoning of Alexei Navalny in 2020, the crackdown on protests following his return to Russia in 2021, and the persecution of his movement’s members significantly raised the stakes for expressing dissent (Human Rights Watch 2022b). With the onset of the war against Ukraine, the government further stifled antiwar demonstrations, dispersing protests within the first three days, detaining thousands, and enacting stringent censorship laws to curtail basic freedoms of speech and assembly (Human Rights Watch 2022a; Sauer and Roth Reference Sauer and Roth2022). That some of these measures violated the right to freedom of expression was confirmed in a judgment by the European Court of Human Rights (Novaya Gazeta and Others v. Russia 2025). These measures left no doubt that any alternative voice entailed life-threatening risks, dramatically shrinking the space for open dissent.

Deprived of opportunities for public articulation of voice, dissenters turned to symbolic gestures to oppose the war and signal to their communities. Such gestures included collective letters calling for a ceasefire, resignations, and individual pickets, although even the latter became criminalized in antiwar contexts.Footnote ¹³ Within this constrained environment, political exit emerged as one of the few remaining avenues for a dissenting voice.

The Russian context arguably exemplifies the performative dimension of exit-as-voice more distinctly than other cases. Unlike many instances of emigration from authoritarian regimes, the political exodus from Russia in 2022 was driven largely by moral condemnation of the government’s decision to wage an unjust war. The act of leaving itself highlights a lack of unity in public support for the war. Such moral and political judgments, embodied in exit, are not entirely unprecedented as civic reactions to war. For example, during the Vietnam War, numerous Americans opposed their government’s actions by emigrating to Canada and other countries (see Christy Reference Christy1972; Shain Reference Shain1989, 25). However, the mass exit from Russia makes its performative aspect particularly visible and poignant, as it represents one of the few remaining options for dissent under extreme authoritarian constraints.

For exit-as-voice to be recognized as such, its performative effect—similar to the illocutionary effect in speech-act theory—must be visible and understood by relevant audiences. While the reactions from relevant communities have largely been confined to social media and private discussions, the regime’s spokespersons publicly acknowledged the political dimension of the process through intimidating remarks about exiting dissenters. For instance, speakers of both houses of parliament likened exiters to “rats” or “scoundrels” (see Govorit Moskva 2022; Moscow Times 2023).

The performativity of exit-as-voice is further sustained by both an ad hoc orientation to, and a post hoc enactment of, the role of exile. Although exiters may face challenges articulating the same voice after exit due to the difficulties of integrating into a new society, the political meaning of their exit is reinforced by their continued connection to their home society (or societies). If civic identity is integral to one’s conception of self, then the act of leaving does not instantly sever or transform that identity. Those who enact exit-as-voice do so not to relinquish their voice but to continue carrying it for, and in relation to, their home society (see the Voice-after-Exit and the Exiles section below). This persistence of voice is what transforms exiters into exiles rather than immigrants.

As Ashwini Vasanthakumar (Reference Vasanthakumar2022, 26) outlines, exile typically involves (1) physical absence from one’s homeland, (2) compulsion to leave due to public pressure, and (3) retention of “an orientation and some aspiration of return” to one’s home country.Footnote ¹⁴ However, the Russian exodus complicates factor (2), as it largely constitutes a self-imposed exile motivated by the performative aims of exit-as-voice.Footnote ¹⁵ Furthermore, unlike apolitical immigration, it is distinguished by a highly affective and political orientation toward home society. Sociological studies highlight how this exodus was politically motivated, with exiters maintaining active engagement through domestic news consumption, donations to NGOs, and ongoing political discussions with friends and relatives at home (Borusyak Reference Borusyak2023; Kamalov et al. Reference Kamalov, Sergeeva, Zavadskaya and Kostenko2023).

Understanding the act of exiting one’s country through the lens of citizenship as an identity role is crucial to defining the concept of voice in normative terms. This perspective does not exclude the microeconomic interpretation of state–citizen relations laid out in the EVL framework; rather, it helps to make sense of a specific category of civic acts driven by the logic of appropriateness. After all, as research on workplace democracy has shown, relations between workers and firms can also involve the politicization of entry and exit, extending beyond the purely transactional logic of EVL (Cockburn and Preminger Reference Cockburn and Preminger2023). This category of civic acts is not always about the opposition competing for power or making instrumental choices. Instead, it encompasses dissent and resistance to power abuses, where opposition may lack viable avenues for action.

Autoethnography and Exit-as-Voice

This section explicates the performative dimension of exit within the context of Russian academia, focusing on one distinct group that enacted such an exit-as-voice. Autoethnography serves as a tool to uncover the meanings individuals attach to the act of exiting, including its performative aspects. Following the principles of analytical autoethnography, I will weave my autoethnographic account of exiting into the broader context of academia–state relations, aiming to contribute to the reappraisal of the conceptual framework of exit and voice. Context is critical for understanding the meanings ascribed to social interactions and shared values.

The case of Russian academia illustrates what is at stake when voice takes the form of public exit, as well as the injustices inflicted by the radicalization of an authoritarian regime.Footnote ¹⁶ Within this social group, voice is an existential condition, and Russian academics are no exception. Despite the constraints, some universities in Russia maintained, albeit to a shrinking degree, a semblance of academic freedom. Upholding this freedom, however fragile, was integral to the social contract academics entered into with their institutions and, by extension, the state (see Dubrovsky and Meyer Olimpieva Reference Dubrovsky and Olimpieva2022). This tacit agreement was a foundation for striving toward excellence in education and research as part of the government’s modernization agenda (see Dubrovsky and Kaczmarska Reference Dubrovsky and Kaczmarska2021). At a minimum, it granted academics the right and opportunity to engage in unhindered discussions in classrooms and beyond.

From the 2015–16 academic year until 2022, I served as a professor and academic administrator, heading the School of Politics and International Relations at RANEPA St. Petersburg in Russia. The idea of writing an autoethnographic account took shape early in my administrative career, contributing to the expanding field of academic autoethnographies (see, e.g., Walford Reference Walford2004). I was privileged to be among a group of early- and mid-career professors tasked with designing and establishing a new school of politics at RANEPA in St. Petersburg. This project sought to align with international standards while grappling with the complexities of Russian bureaucracy.

My administrative role prompted reflections on the nexus of academic service and professorial work. During the pandemic, this reflection deepened, informed by regular note taking, a practice encouraged by a collaborative project initiated by sociologists from other universities. This project involved professors documenting the impact of pandemic restrictions on academic practices through shared diaries. By 2022, my reflections on the roles played within Russian academia had become quite standard. Much of this material now informs my current book project. However, the observations presented here focus on a specific episode tied to the outbreak of the war. At that pivotal moment, an autoethnographic account emerged as one of the few analytical tools that was both immediately accessible and sufficiently sensitive to capture the shifts of the moment and their interpretations.Footnote ¹⁷

Late February and early March of 2022 witnessed hyperintensive discussions among members of the academic community regarding the meaning of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. While loyalist views were many, this account focuses on dissenting voices. Several themes dominated conversations with my concerned colleagues. Although the overall mood was one of shock and disorientation, a widely shared sentiment—one I also held—was that a full-scale military invasion of a neighboring state was a profoundly unjust act that would cost both countries countless lives. At this critical political and moral juncture, many felt it essential to declare their positions as citizens and educators. This sense of urgency explains why numerous academics initiated and signed antiwar petitions and participated in street protests.Footnote ¹⁸ However, this stance soon clashed with the loyalist posture displayed by predominantly unelected university administrators, who openly supported Putin’s decision to invade. My colleagues and I viewed this as a profound misrepresentation of our voice and a betrayal of the university’s mission. These tensions were heightened by the critical juncture of the war, which rendered such conflicts more immediate and visceral.

The invasion’s repercussions quickly permeated academia. On March 4, 2022, the Russian parliament introduced two amendments to the criminal code, penalizing the dissemination of “false information” about and the “discrediting” of the Russian armed forces. These amendments were unmistakable as instruments of wartime censorship, effectively dismantling the possibility of unhindered classroom discussions. Faculty could still teach and engage with a variety of topics, but any reference to Ukraine or the ongoing war would now demand self-censorship. This censorship extended beyond a broader civic voice, undermining the narrower but equally vital concept of academic freedom.

As one colleague remarked in a private discussion, these changes amounted to a de facto prohibition of their profession—political science—for anyone unwilling to avoid contentious topics. The situation was widely perceived as an extension of the arbitrariness wielded by the head of state, whose legitimacy had already been quietly questioned. The neighboring state was subjected to an arbitrary will of the autocrat, while the citizens of the invading country were reduced to powerless subjects—potential conscripts for an unjust cause and silent witnesses to their government’s actions. This sense of arbitrariness not only eroded individual freedoms but also stifled the ability to shape, however minimally, the moral compass of society.Footnote ¹⁹

Professionally, my academic community was deeply concerned about whether the regime would continue to permit the teaching of critical scholarship and whether educational programs would remain insulated from the anticipated warmongering zeal. The community quickly became divided over the question of responsibility. While many sought to avoid becoming cogs in a system that could exploit universities as propaganda tools, others argued for a special responsibility to students—a stance whose potential pitfalls were incisively critiqued by Arendt (Reference Arendt2003, 29–31) and are generally well known to the Russian academic audience.

Due to my dual role as both an academic administrator and a professor, I found myself at the forefront of these discussions. Within days of the invasion, universities were pressed to act as propaganda machines. University councils, presented as ostensibly representative bodies, were instructed to adopt statements supporting Russia’s president, which many did. In early March, rectors from numerous universities, including my own, signed a collective prowar letter. This action was misinterpreted internationally as signaling the complicity of the entire Russian academic community. Compounding this, state agencies rapidly prepared propaganda materials about Ukraine’s alleged failings and Russia’s civilizational achievements, ordering universities to arrange their urgent delivery as lectures.

As an administrator evading this directive, I quickly realized that my position was becoming, quite literally, a cog in a propaganda machine. While the scope, intensity, and duration of this propaganda campaign were uncertain, it was evident that academic roles were being subsumed into a state-controlled delivery chain, poised to disseminate propaganda on command. Although initial resistance through sabotage was feasible, the seriousness of the approach to propaganda indicated that such defiance was unlikely to remain sustainable. High-ranking state officials underscored this reality, declaring that universities must ensure adherence to the state’s narrative in classrooms (TASS 2022).

I viewed this as a fundamental assault on the essence of academic freedom and civic values—a sentiment echoed in recent qualitative research (see Zavadskaya and Gerber Reference Zavadskaya and Gerber2023). Remaining in my role under such conditions would have been irreconcilable with the principles my position was originally designed to uphold. Many of my colleagues similarly recognized that speaking out against the war would lead to exit—whether from a university or the country itself. Nevertheless, many felt that such an exit was necessary to align with the moral community they identified with.

This underscores a critical dimension of exit-as-voice: performativity. The act of exiting is not merely a departure, but a deliberate, public gesture aimed at engaging relevant audiences in critical reflection on the exit itself. The normative intentionality of exit-as-voice is inherently tied to the transition from performative exit to voice in exile. As exit is performed to preserve voice, it is undertaken with the implicit aim of sustaining that voice in exile. This intentionality informed my own decision to exit. Believing the invasion of Ukraine to be morally and legally indefensible, I felt it was my duty to make my position public. Along with many other academics, I signed antiwar petitions and voted against a prowar resolution at the university council. I also understood that expressing dissent would likely jeopardize my position as the head of school, as authorities were unlikely to tolerate dissent among academic leaders who wielded broad influence over faculty and students while also enjoying their trust.

I reflected at the time that even if my voice led to an “exit,” it had to be a “public exit”—one that was both audible and explicative.Footnote ²⁰ A more subdued or silent exit, by contrast, would have undermined the very ideals—such as “voice” in the classroom—that my colleagues and I had sought to prioritize in our academic community.

In March 2022, I announced my exit decision to the representatives of the student council and later delivered a speech at a student conference. In that speech, I emphasized that sometimes exit decisions must be made to remind ourselves, as members of the academic community, of the scope of the politically possible and morally just, even when this scope is downplayed by the authorities’ attempts to project the inevitability of a political choice. I recognized the importance of maintaining the public nature of these events, even though my primary audience consisted only of students and some faculty members. For me, the prospect of a quiet resignation would have undermined my self-identity as an academic. Moreover, I did not perceive my own act solely as an exit but rather as a political gesture directed at the university administration and the academic community of my school. It was nothing more, but nothing less either.

The performativity of exit-as-voice also hinges on the exiter’s continued engagement with relevant communities. Not all exits need to be publicly or verbally articulated; sometimes, the act of exit alone is sufficient to carry a performative effect. When individuals exit without explicitly voicing their stance, their protest may still be visible. This dynamic unfolded across many Russian educational programs that were the frontrunners of the modernization and internationalization effort in the country. A significant number of faculty members left these programs, often causing disruptions to program delivery. This, in turn, provoked grievances among remaining faculty members, whose workloads increased, and among students, who faced challenges with class continuity. Such disruptions collectively created a performative effect, even if it was unintended by the individuals involved. In this specific sense of the performative effect, the exit of individuals who did not frame their departure from organizations or the country in terms of voice still contributes to amplifying dissent. Even less overtly political acts of voting with one’s feet, when occurring alongside instances of articulated voice, may be perceived as reinforcing the same expression of protest; Hirschman (Reference Hirschman1993) observed a similar dynamic in the GDR in 1988–89, when those attempting to leave the country amplified the voice of those who remained.

This effect has often been reinforced by the subsequent actions of those who exited. Many academics have preserved their voice by openly opposing the war, engaging in humanitarian efforts to mitigate the war’s consequences, or joining independent educational programs that manifestly oppose authoritarianism. These activities have enabled dissenting voices to retain their identity as exiles rather than blending into their host societies as immigrants.

The role of the exile carries its own set of expectations, including critically scrutinizing the choices of the authoritarian regime at home, raising difficult questions, challenging established justifications, and proposing alternative values and norms for the home community.Footnote ²¹ Recognizing the potential for this role underscores the intentionality embedded in exit-as-voice. It also reflects the identity of dissenting academics and the meaning and direction of their voice.

However, the transition from exit-as-voice to an exiled voice is fraught with at least two key challenges, one material and the other moral. The material challenge lies in the physical absence from the home country, which may disconnect the voice carrier from active debates and limit their influence (Duquette-Rury Reference Duquette-Rury2019, 198). The moral challenge involves the risk of exiled academics either claiming for themselves, or being perceived as claiming, high moral ground over those who remained in the country. This perception can alienate them from relevant home communities, causing their voices to go unheard. The next section will address these challenges and examine the fundamental connection between the two modalities of voice.

Voice-after-Exit and the Exiles

As diaspora and migration studies have shown, migrants rarely sever ties with their home countries and often remain at least minimally engaged through news consumption, electoral participation, remittances, and other forms of connection (Ahmadov and Sasse Reference Ahmadov and Sasse2016; Burgess Reference Burgess2012; Waldinger Reference Waldinger2015, 84, 145). Diasporas have been recognized as capable of mobilizing to influence politics in both their host and home states (Østergaard-Nielsen Reference Østergaard-Nielsen2003). Consequently, they have been theorized as new agents in international relations, effectively challenging state-imposed boundaries and identities. The phenomenon of diasporas highlights how national and cultural identities can transcend the constraints of state-defined identity (Adamson and Demetriou Reference Adamson and Demetriou2007; Koinova Reference Koinova2012; Shain and Barth Reference Shain and Barth2003). Diasporas originating from authoritarian states can make this contrast even sharper by opposing the regime as a state at home and by opposing its human rights abuses—unless the regime manages to exert control over its diasporas (Betts and Jones Reference Betts and Jones2016; Moss Reference Moss2022).Footnote ²² Furthermore, the capacity of diasporas to communicate with home societies has only grown with advancements in technology, which significantly reduce the effect of distance as a constraint on voice.Footnote ²³

In this context, Russian politically mobilized diasporas exhibit patterns akin to other engaged diasporas. One of the most comprehensive prewar studies of Russian diasporas, conducted by Joanne Fomina (Reference Fomina2021), demonstrates how Russian political activists remain connected to the domestic agenda through remittances and organize to articulate alternative, antiauthoritarian visions on issues such as elections, human rights, corruption, and environmental protection. Laura Henry and Elizabeth Plantan (Reference Henry and Plantan2022), focusing on Russian environmental activists and drawing from Hirschman’s framework, argue that the activists’ “voice” was enabled after “exit” due to the reduced risk of state repression.

During Russia’s war on Ukraine, the efforts of exiled dissenters to amplify their voice became even more conspicuous. Between 2022 and 2024, over 80 media outlets (later reduced to 66 by 2024) reconstituted themselves outside Russia to continue independent journalism (JX Fund 2023; 2024). These new exiles employ a diverse array of technological platforms, including news websites and alternative online educational platforms hosted outside domestic jurisdiction, as well as YouTube streams, audio podcasts, and Telegram news channels. In some cases, their political remittances take a material form, such as the 2024 crowdfunding initiatives that raised hundreds of thousands of euros to support political prisoners in Russia (Meduza 2024).

What is particularly significant about this struggle is that it is both literally and self-consciously framed as a fight for the “voice” of dissent within and beyond the home society. A poignant example of this stance is opposition leader Ilya Yashin, who was sentenced in 2022 to eight and a half years in prison for “disseminating false information” about the Russian army. Yashin was released on August 1, 2024, as part of a prisoner swap between the United States and Russia. Since his release, he has been actively campaigning to serve as a “voice” for citizens of the home society “who are disenfranchised” (see Ivkina Reference Ivkina2024).

The struggle for an antiauthoritarian voice is acknowledged even by the domestic authoritarian regime, which responds with various forms of transnational repression. The Russian government swiftly designated Meta platforms, including Instagram and Facebook, as extremist organizations, effectively banning their use. It also blocked access to X (formerly Twitter) and thousands of other websites. Official reports indicate that the number of blocked websites nearly doubled in 2023 compared to the previous year, reflecting expanded grounds for prosecution (see Isakova and Litvinenko Reference Isakova and Litvinenko2023). By 2024, state agencies had begun deliberately slowing down YouTube playback, recognizing it as a crucial platform for independent journalism. Impeding access is merely one tool in the broader arsenal of authoritarian repression.

Another significant instrument of repression aimed at silencing dissenting voices, both domestically and internationally, is the so-called foreign agent law. This instrument allows the Russian government to label individuals and organizations as “foreign agents” without judicial oversight. Initially, the designation was justified by claims of foreign funding, but it has since been expanded to include mere expressions of disapproval of the war. For professors—who now comprise a notable portion of the foreign agent registry—this designation results in severe professional and personal consequences. Foreign agents are legally prohibited from teaching minors or being employed by institutions receiving state subsidies, effectively barring them from their profession and silencing their voices.

Furthermore, as previous research shows, authoritarian regimes often target dissenting voices abroad through direct measures. This includes surveillance, harassment, and other forms of repression directed at opposition leaders living in exile (see Michaelsen Reference Michaelsen2018; Moss, Michaelsen, and Kennedy Reference Moss, Michaelsen and Kennedy2022). These tactics are often facilitated by the same digital technologies that enable dissenters to amplify their voice. Nevertheless, as Michaelsen (Reference Michaelsen2018) shows in the case of the Iranian opposition, many exiles remain resilient in the face of such threats, continuing to challenge oppressive regimes despite the risks.

While less political diasporas may also engage in forms of political mobilization, voice aimed at a change at home is the core of exiles’ identity. Much of their work aimed at triggering political change, critiquing the social and economic policies of the home society, and exposing its injustices is necessarily built around normative and ethical principles. The very status of the exile is predicated on the normative work relating it to the audiences back at home.

The enduring orientation of exiled voices toward their home society and their resistance to repression highlight the inherently normative nature of their identity. While less politically engaged diasporas may also participate in political mobilization, the core of an exile’s identity is their “voice” directed toward fostering change at home. Much of their work—whether critiquing social and economic policies, exposing injustices, or striving to trigger political transformation—is fundamentally grounded in ethical principles. Indeed, the very status of an exile is predicated on a relationship with their audience back home that requires a constant reevaluation of these principles.

Central to this status is the positionality of the exile. While exiles may face transnational repression, their personal security risks are generally lower than those confronting dissenters living under authoritarian jurisdiction. This disparity influences the dynamics of their dialogue, as one party must navigate the immediate and grave risks of open expression. Consequently, exiles’ attempts to critique or call for change within home societies may be perceived as virtue signaling, potentially alienating domestic audiences and hindering meaningful engagement or political transformation. For this reason, the voice of exiles is often constrained less by the fear of repression and more by moral considerations. Their voice must be nuanced, sensitive, and attuned to the vulnerabilities of their audience. There are topics exiles cannot broach publicly and actions they cannot advocate, given the security risks faced by those who remain in the home country.

The positionality of exiles is further complicated by the necessity of engaging with their host society. While the receiving society may sympathize with the exile’s cause, it may not share the same conceptions of justice prevalent in the exile’s home society.Footnote ²⁴ Consequently, the voice of exiles is directed toward two distinct audiences: their home community and their recipient community. Living in a new social environment positions exiles to develop a form of double loyalty (cf. Benhabib Reference Benhabib2018). This dual orientation can be both empowering and constraining.Footnote ²⁵ Exiles are in a position where they have to reconcile conflicting moral principles that underpin political stances in their home and host societies. However, such reconciliation is not always achievable. For instance, members of the Russian antiwar opposition in exile have encountered significant moral divisions regarding military versus nonmilitary means of resistance to the war and the regime. These divisions, influenced by the dual loyalties of exiles, underscore the deeply normative nature of the concept of voice.

“Oblique Voice” and “the Inner Exile”

In authoritarian regimes, which typically prioritize demonstrative loyalty over independent expression, the concept of “voice” can still be useful in understanding suppressed dissent, which manifests in unconventional ways. In Russia, the regime’s repressive turn at the onset of the war sought to preclude domestic antiwar protests entirely. Currently, more than a thousand criminal cases have been opened against individuals for antiwar stances, including comments made on social media (see OVD-Info 2024). The pervasive repression, combined with news of such measures, has marginalized antiwar voices in the public sphere.

Notable exceptions exist, illustrating pockets of resistance. These include public calls by municipal council members in St. Petersburg to end the war (Sever.Realii 2023), cautious proposals by the Yabloko party advocating peace negotiations, and the campaign of antiwar candidate Boris Nadezhdin in the 2024 presidential elections—though Nadezhdin was eventually barred from running (see Shukla et al. Reference Shukla, Chernova, Sebastian and Picheta2024). However, as viewed from the outside, the broader Russian public sphere might appear largely devoid of articulate antiwar or antiregime voices.

This perceived absence reflects a limitation in the traditional concept of voice, which presumes articulation directed at altering the behavior of a firm or state. In oppressive contexts, where unsanctioned grievances cannot be openly expressed, the concept of voice needs to be reframed. A normative understanding of voice suggests that even in such environments, voice can serve as an expression of identity, practiced in unconventional forms.

This form of voice is directed toward communities of like-minded citizens who share similar values rather than toward formal institutions. It primarily aims to sustain identity and civic values, with policy change as a secondary goal. For example, as Mischa Gabowitsch (Reference Gabowitsch2017) observed, Russian political activists have long invested in building their milieus and cultivating shared spaces, even before the introduction of wartime repression. In such contexts, voice does not necessarily manifest as an outwardly political message, as doing so would carry substantial personal risk under the current regime. Instead, it assumes subtler forms, prioritizing the preservation of shared values and identity.

For many dissenting Russian citizens, wartime repressions have necessitated a transformation of their voice or a lowering of their public profile, often to an extent that could be defined as inner exile. This term captures an experience familiar to intellectuals under authoritarian regimes, such as Karl Jaspers in Nazi Germany (see Klieneberger Reference Klieneberger1965), or Soviet dissidents and writers like Anna Akhmatova and Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. Inner exile signifies physical presence within a regime’s borders, yet one dissociated from official activities and demonstrative loyalty. Michael Walzer’s (Reference Walzer1970, 14, 19) notion of “internal emigration” similarly emphasizes that an individual’s obligation to the state should not simply be deduced from the fact of being in the country; such individuals often prioritize obligations to alternative, secondary groups.

For broader segments of citizens—those who are not active dissidents but do not align with the regime—daily life often involves a dichotomy between “private truths and public lies,” as described by Timur Kuran (Reference Kuran1995) in his analysis of communist regimes. In contemporary Russia, the number of such citizens may not be insignificant. While acknowledging that public opinion polls in oppressive contexts are prone to distortion, surveys suggest that 20% to 30% of respondents are critical of the country’s current direction, with even more indicating they would not have supported starting the war if given a choice. Additionally, the proportion of respondents favoring peace talks rose to 53% by November 2024.Footnote ²⁶

Maintaining one’s voice in a context where dissent is met with severe sanctions becomes an act of moral courage, reflecting deeply held civic values. Choosing to remain in the country, despite escalating repression, can itself be interpreted as a symbolic act—a commitment to engage with and witness the community’s evolving realities. As anonymized academics explained in an interview with Sever.Realii (2022), staying in Russia and resisting exit is, for some, a deliberate choice to uphold truth and voice in their professional spaces. “If we left,” one academic noted, “the university would have recruited others to teach students propaganda.” While such reflections may partly serve as post hoc rationalizations, it is notable that they are constructed around the ideas of voice and truth.

To be sure, self-preservation is a critical motivation under conditions of mounting repression. Many recognize the shrinking space for an open articulation of voice. Calling Putin’s war by its name or labeling the regime a dictatorship can only be done, as one respondent noted, “until someone reports you” (Sever.Realii 2022). Consequently, inner exile often produces a cautious, veiled, and cryptic form of voice that may be difficult to discern as dissent.

James Scott (Reference Scott1990, 137), addressing the limitations of Hirschman’s concept of voice, proposed the category of “voice under domination” to describe resistance within regimes of censorship and punishment. Under such regimes, voice becomes substantially transfigured, no longer suited to conventional public spaces. Its expression is confined to private conversations or liminal spaces between the private and public spheres. This voice will use anonymity, rumors, gossiping, mob riots, and other tools as typical means of disguise (see Scott Reference Scott1990, 136–57). Similarly, many Russian people could allow themselves a greater degree of liberty by expressing their opinions in the so-called locked Facebook accounts or writing under a pseudonym. In some cases, dissenting opinions may find their way into classrooms, while for others, safe spaces are limited to close-knit, trusted circles. This transformed voice is unlikely to reach or influence the regime itself, but it remains accessible to segments of the community, preserving a semblance of shared values and resistance.

Scholars studying resistance to oppressive regimes often highlight its performative aspects and the creative use of language. For example, O’Donnell, analyzing dissent under Argentinian authoritarianism, observed how such regimes aim to suppress “horizontal voice”—communication directed at one’s community. In response, dissenters adapt by veiling their resistance, crafting what O’Donnell termed “oblique voice.” This concept captures subtle and unconventional forms of dissent, such as “certain unconventional … ways of dressing, clapping hands with excessive enthusiasm in front of public authorities, going to recitals of singers or musicians who were known to disagree with the regime, [or] some quick glances in the streets and other public spaces” (O’Donnell Reference O’Donnell, Foxley, McPherson and O’Donnell1986, 261).

Similar performative techniques are now prevalent among dissenting citizens in Russia. Oblique voice manifests in acts of performative activism, such as volunteering to help displaced Ukrainian citizens leave Russia,Footnote ²⁷ sending letters to political prisoners, or donating to legal aid funds. It also includes cultural engagement—listening to the music of banned antiwar artists, attending performances and exhibitions with covert pacifist messages, or visiting places known to attract like-minded individuals. Everyday interactions also reflect this veiled resistance: people describe looking into each other’s eyes to intuit stances on the regime and its policies.Footnote ²⁸

Language serves as a distinct and critical medium for oblique voice, enabling dissenters to subtly mark their identity and convey messages. Dissent often hinges on rhetorical mastery, employing euphemisms, ambivalence, and polysemic literary devices (Scott Reference Scott1990, 155–65). These strategies, widely used under the Soviet regime, have resurged in contemporary Russia. Rhetorical figures, historical analogies, and subversive Aesopian language allow speakers to veil their true meanings. This oblique approach extends into academic discourse, where scholars increasingly seek refuge in “neutral” and highly specialized research areas, avoiding overt engagement with questions about the nature of the Russian political regime or the war.Footnote ²⁹ For example, the relatively loyalist Russian Political Science Association keeps organizing an annual conference with a program that contains virtually no references to authoritarianism and the ongoing war, instead using euphemisms such as “turbulent times,” “current crisis,” or “the changing world.”Footnote ³⁰ Oblique voice, expressed through language, cultural activities, and daily practices, demonstrates that voice persists under authoritarian domination. It remains a normative expression of civic identity, adapting creatively to the constraints imposed by repression.