In Khabarovsk it has become a nightly ritual.
A small group of protesters gather in Lenin Square before marching through the city center. Along the way, more people accompany. The singing grows louder, as does the cacophony of the car horns indicating approval.
Protesters, who risk arrest, shout slogans in support of local governor Sergei Furgal. Last week, he was detained by officers who had flown in especially from Moscow. Mr. Furgal has been charged with involvement in multiple murders dating back 15 years. He denies it. Now he is behind bars in the Russian capital. That has provoked anger in Khabarovsk.
“When our governor was arrested, everyone took it as his personal tragedy,” one of the protesters, Alexander, tells me. “We chose this person and we feel that they have robbed us, that they robbed us for political reasons. People feel that Moscow spat in their faces.”
“But they say he has been involved in killings,” I point out.
“For 15 years he was a politician,” says Alexander. “In Russia there is a file on every politician. At a certain point, you can take it out of the box and you can charge a person with anything.”
In many ways, Sergei Furgal is an unlikely hero. Former businessman, he entered politics with the ultra liberal nationalist Russian Liberal Democratic Party (LDPR). Although, on paper, an opposition party, the LDPR is a very important part of the Kremlin-approved political system.
In 2018, Furgal ran for governor of the Khabarovsk region, but was widely regarded as a technical candidate, with little chance, or even desire, to win. Due to a massive protest vote against Moscow, Mr. Furgal defeated the Kremlin candidate. As governor he became a charismatic, rude and popular politician. Many here tell me that he is more popular in the region than President Putin.
“The Kremlin is doing sociological surveys all the time, observing what is happening with the popularity of regional officials and Vladimir Putin,” explains political analyst Nikolai Petrov. “And in the event that regional leaders become more popular, they are undertaking certain movements.”
The Kremlin denies that the fall of Furgal is politically motivated. When President Putin’s key man in the region, Yuri Trutnev, visited Khabarovsk earlier this week, he told reporters: “Law enforcement officers would never have detained an acting governor if they did not have a 100% iron reason. to do it”.
People in Khabarovsk are not convinced. Last Saturday, the city witnessed the largest display of discontent here in modern times: up to 30,000 people took to the streets to condemn Furgal’s arrest and demand that his governor be returned to Khabarovsk for a fair trial in his country of origin.
“We are just trying to show Moscow that he is our man and that he has to be here,” says another protester, Viktoria. “Even if she committed a crime, which we don’t believe, she has to be here.”
The protests are widely supported in Khabarovsk. But I found a man who opposes them: the city’s mayor, Sergei Kravchuk, from the Kremlin party, United Russia.
“I am against the protests because they are illegal,” Kravchuk tells me. “Also, today we had 85 new cases of coronaviruses in the city. And where is the coronavirus found? In large crowds.”
“Do you think a trial should be held here in Khabarovsk?” I ask the mayor.
“What you think?” Mr. Kravchuk asks me back.
“I am the journalist. You are the mayor, I ask you.”
“But imagine that you are the mayor and I am the journalist.”
“But I am not the mayor!” I answer.
“The trial will happen where it should happen.” Mr. Kravchuk responds.
Unauthorized protests in Russia are normally viewed by those in power here as illegal and disjointed.
What is interesting about Khabarovsk is that, until now, the police have kept their distance, a sign, perhaps, that the authorities understand the force of feelings and want to avoid provoking further anger.
Far from the protests, on the beach of Khabarovsk, the scene is more peaceful. Families are sunbathing and swimming in the Amur river. But when I mention the arrest of the governor and the Kremlin, a big cloud appears over the conversation.
“I support the protests,” says Viktor, a fisherman. “The authorities in Moscow don’t give us anything. They steal everything from themselves.”
“We have a saying,” says a woman named Natalia. “God and Moscow are very far away. Moscow will not help us, we have to help ourselves.”
His governor’s arrest is fueling resentment in his capital, seven time zones west: a world far from here.