The trouble with loving Russia: Evan Gershkovich's memoir seeks sentimentality in a lost country

In the final phases of his pre-trial confinement at Moscow's infamous Lefortovo Prison, American journalist Evan Gershkovich formed an unusual connection with the FSB investigator assigned to prove his guilt as a spy. Despite the year he spent in Russian custody, the two continued to exchange cigarettes and toast to finding common ground.

Gershkovich recounts numerous such instances in his memoir, "This Cursed Beautiful Land: A Russian-American Story," which chronicles nearly 500 days of his incarceration. The authenticity of his storytelling is a standout feature of the book. However, the memoir's most contentious aspect lies in these interactions, which prompt a broader question: what does it mean to acknowledge the humanity of individuals who contribute to, even if inadvertently, a regime of severe oppression?

Gershkovich was apprehended in April 2023 while covering Russia's military-industrial sector for the Wall Street Journal. The Federal Security Service (FSB) charged him with espionage, alleging he was gathering intelligence for the American Central Intelligence Agency (CIA). These accusations were unfounded, with Russian authorities offering no substantiated evidence.

Reflecting on his arrest, Gershkovich admits he once felt protected and insulated from the authoritarian system that was taking shape around him. His initial sense of security was akin to that of a foreign correspondent, which he later realized was a facade. The Russian authorities' decision to imprison him, as seen in the cases of Paul Whelan and Brittney Griner before him, demonstrated their propensity to detain Americans and exploit their freedom as leverage in international negotiations.

After 16 months of captivity, Gershkovich was released as part of a significant prisoner exchange in the summer of 2024, alongside Russian opposition figures Ilya Yashin and Vladimir Kara-Murza. His release followed his sham trial, during which he was sentenced to 16 years in prison for a crime he did not commit. A substantial portion of "This Cursed Beautiful Land" focuses on the nearly 500 days Gershkovich spent waiting for his liberation.

He learns the dos and don'ts of prison life from fellow inmates, watches significant events like the Wagner Mercenary Group's brief uprising against the Kremlin in June 2023 on television, and yearns for his loved ones. The relatively lenient treatment Gershkovich receives during his incarceration highlights the international scrutiny his case garnered, effectively making him a high-profile hostage.

Nevertheless, he does not claim his experience represents the Russian prison system as a whole. He often refers to himself as a "voyeur" among real prisoners and has also used his book tour to shed light on Ukrainian prisoners, including journalist Viktoria Roshchyna, who died in Russian custody under torture and mutilation. The stark contrast between Gershkovich's circumstances and those of prisoners like Roshchyna underscores the limitations of the memoir in comprehensively depicting the true workings of the Russian prison system, a system that imprisons not only Russians vocal in their dissent but also Ukrainians oppressed under occupation.

The book does not merely recount how an American journalist became entangled in the Kremlin's political arena. By exploring interactions with prisoners, security service officers, and prison staff, Gershkovich seeks to grasp how Russia has descended into a state of chaos. This descent can be traced back to Russia's inherited Soviet police state, characterized by pervasive suspicion, political entrapment, and the presumption of guilt as instruments of power.

The cult of personality surrounding Felix Dzerzhinsky, the founder of the Soviet secret police and architect of the Red Terror, serves as a potent symbol of this reality. In 2023, Russian authorities even erected a statue of Dzerzhinsky at the headquarters of Russia's foreign intelligence service, placing it there more than three decades after the original monument outside the KGB headquarters was dismantled.

Gershkovich's memoir, while insightful, becomes less convincing when it shifts focus from the origins of Russia's authoritarianism to its interactions with those operating within it.