Dmitry, 28 Years Old“I have many friends and relatives in Moscow, Samara, and Saratov. All of them used to say, ‘You’re in Siberia, you’re safe, nothing will happen there.’ I thought the same and told them to focus on their own safety instead of worrying about me. There were strikes in Saratov a long time ago, and an oil refinery in Samara Oblast was hit. I was terrified because the people I love could actually be hurt. Now, I’m scared too because strikes can happen anywhere. Many people in Novosibirsk don’t believe we’re at risk, relying on the usual arguments: ‘We’re too far away; missiles can’t travel that far; no one cares about Siberia.’ But I believe anything is possible. Technology is advancing, and the West is supplying Ukraine with high-precision weapons that Russia lacks. Our air defense systems likely won’t be able to counter such threats. Now, we all have to worry about our lives and homes. I have no idea where to go if something happens. I think the only way to prevent strikes is through negotiations and a ceasefire. I’ve noticed that many people are surprised that Kursk Oblast, our territory, is a war zone now. Few understand that this is just a response to Russia’s actions. I wish people would realize as soon as possible that this war needs to end. I’m tired of living in fear — fear that something might strike my home or that security forces might come for me because of a comment or a casually spoken anti-war remark.” Ukraine possesses British and French Storm Shadow/SCALP cruise missiles, which have a maximum range of 550 kilometers. However, the export version supplied to the Ukrainian military is limited to a range of 290 kilometers. These missiles are launched from aircraft. Ukraine also has American ATACMS ballistic missiles, which are launched from the ground. According to experts cited by The New York Times, granting Ukraine permission to carry out missile strikes on Russian territory was a response to the deployment of North Korean troops in Kursk Oblast. However, there are no clear guidelines specifying the targets these missiles can be used against. Anonymous sources from The New York Times indicate that Ukraine is authorized to target military sites only. Nonetheless, some analysts believe the White House is unlikely to oppose strikes on other facilities or regions within Russia. On November 19, immediately following the announcement that Ukraine’s allies had authorized missile strikes on Russian territory, the Ukrainian military launched six ATACMS missiles at an ammunition supply point in Bryansk Oblast. The next day, Kursk Oblast was hit with Storm Shadow missiles. Nine Russian regions fall within the 300-kilometer strike range: Smolensk, Bryansk, Oryol, Lipetsk, Kursk, Voronezh, Belgorod, and Rostov Oblasts, as well as Krasnodar Krai. Ksenia, 30 Years Old “I was shocked when the war reached Kursk Oblast, but even then, I didn’t think it would ever reach us. It might sound selfish, but we all try to save our own asses first — we want to protect ourselves and our loved ones. That’s why I felt sympathy for the people in the border regions but continued living my life as usual. It wasn’t until I saw the news about long-range missiles that I got truly scared. I spent several days consumed by that fear. When the war first began, I thought we were lucky to live in the middle of nowhere — no one would ever attack us here in Siberia because we’ve never been important to anyone, neither to foreigners nor to our own [government]. I’m an anxious person, so I deliberately stopped reading the news a few years ago, even before the war started. But when something significant happens, I still find out about it — I can’t completely shut myself off from the world. It’s hard to keep emotions bottled up, so I talk to my friends, and that helps me feel better. There’s a choice: you can either live in constant fear or just live. I choose to live. At the same time, I fully understand that if a weapon capable of reaching Siberia appears, they’ll target my city because it’s the capital of Siberia. I already have a plan in case Novosibirsk comes under attack. I’ll pack my car, take my cats, and drive to my parents’ house in a small town. I feel like it’s not an important enough place to be targeted. That town is my safety zone. If the war reaches there too, I’ll stock up on food, head into the taiga, and live like Agafia Lykova [a Siberian hermit from an Old Believer family living in Khakassia].” Still, for me, the most terrifying event of the past few years was the mobilization. I was primarily worried about my relatives — I wanted to stock up on fuel and take my husband (now ex), my father, and my brother to the taiga to lay low. When I shared my plan with them, they laughed and said, “Oh, come on, nothing will happen, no one will get drafted, don’t worry.” In the end, they were right — nobody was drafted. Over time, I’ve grown calmer. The active wave of emigration subsided, people began returning home, and the panic faded. Here in Novosibirsk, nothing really reminds me of the war or mobilization anymore, apart from the occasional conversations with friends.”
Vadim, 55 Years Old “I served in the army during the time when Soviet troops were still in Afghanistan. I could have been deployed there. In the end, it didn’t happen, but the awareness that military actions could directly involve you, your family, and your loved ones has stayed with me for life. And, of course, it doesn’t evoke any positive emotions. I truly came to realize that the war in Ukraine was real in mid-2022, after the first tragedies involving people I used to know. Before that, even though I read the news, it all felt like a movie. But when you learn that someone just one handshake away from you is gone, it becomes clear — it’s real, and it’s happening now. Given everything that’s been going on, I don’t even view the news about the permission to launch long-range missiles at Russia as anything particularly significant. It’s no different from the way things were before that permission. There’s an information war going on — it doesn’t take physical lives like real war does, but it still harms people. My mom can’t even listen to the news anymore; she cries constantly. Yes, a missile with that kind of range might cause more physical damage to a specific location and the people there, but that doesn’t mean everything was fine before those weapons appeared. Nor does it mean things became drastically more terrifying or horrible after Ukraine was allowed to use them against Russia. It seems that every adult has been living with this feeling for quite some time. They understand that the blue skies overhead can be disrupted at any moment — not necessarily by missiles, but by actions coming from within. Moreover, we don’t live in a vacuum or on a separate planet. It’s like what happens in New Zealand with frequent volcanic eruptions or earthquakes. It would be naive to think that while one part of the planet is erupting, Siberia will remain untouched, with its pristine white snow creaking under wool boots and squirrels taking nuts from your hand. These events affect everyone and everything because we all share the same planet. War is no different. Some might believe that the war is confined to Ukraine or Kursk, but it impacts everyone. Here’s a simple example: you plan to fly somewhere, but your flight is delayed because the airport is closed. Everyone understands the reasons why an airport might be closed these days. So, it doesn’t matter if you live in Siberia, the Russian Far East, Chukotka, or anywhere else. You live in this country, you feel connected to it, and you can’t just close your eyes and ignore the events unfolding both within and beyond its borders.”
Olga, 49 Years Old “I fully understand that if Novosibirsk weren’t so far from Ukraine, it would likely become a target for missile strikes. We have Akademgorodok, the Chkalovsky [air] base, and many other significant sites that could be appealing targets for destruction. We don’t live in a remote village or behind towering mountains. I believe that strikes are possible even now, and we need to be mentally prepared for any developments. I’ve always been a fatalist. Those destined to drown won’t hang themselves, and everyone bears their own cross, whether in war or peace. In my view, if active combat were to reach Novosibirsk Oblast, there would be nothing I could do to change or influence the situation. All I can do is protect my family — take my children to the country house, settle them in the basement, try to keep them safe — and then go out to help those who are panicking or unable to help themselves. That said, it’s easy to talk about these things in theory. When people are dying around you, when explosions are going off, and buildings are collapsing, any sane person would feel fear — that’s completely normal. Not feeling fear, on the other hand, isn’t normal. Honestly, when I look up and see the sun instead of drones, I thank God for it. My anxiety is mostly triggered by the news I read. When you hear that a town has been destroyed or that someone has died, you just pray for the deceased and so on. After the invasion of Russian territories [in Kursk Oblast], my husband and I talked several times about taking time off work to volunteer and help refugees. But my father recently had a minor stroke, and we can’t leave him alone. So, we stayed.” | 
