A stubborn rule seems to govern society: if people who understand what is right and what is wrong do not stand together, repressive practices will eventually reach everyone.

This is captured with chilling clarity in Martin Niemöller’s words:

First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a communist.
Then they came for the social democrats, and I did not speak out—because I was not a social democrat.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

Today in Russia, neither environmental activists nor “patriots,” nor in fact anyone whose opinion even slightly diverges from what is considered “correct,” can feel safe. The number of triggers keeps growing: unlawful enforcement practices, a culture of denunciations, and the willingness of some citizens to harm others simply because they have the opportunity.

A telling example is the case of Chelyabinsk environmental activist Nadezhda Vertyakhovskaya. According to reports, she is being charged under Article 298.1(1) of the Russian Criminal Code (“defamation against a judge”) over comments posted on the website “Judges of Russia” about Anna Shmelyova, a judge of the Sovetsky District Court of Chelyabinsk.

What she is being tried for — the core point

Reports say that one of the reviews used wording on the level of “a dishonorable (lady)” and questioned the judge’s professional integrity (for example, claiming she “did not deserve the robe”). In other words, this is not about calls for violence or threats; it is about public, relatively restrained criticism and an emotional characterization—yet that is enough to trigger criminal prosecution.

Context: why this was outrage, not an “attack”

The story sits within a broader conflict around environmental activism and court decisions. Commentators also mention the environmental lawyer Vladimir Kazantsev and the public resonance surrounding his case and death in custody. Against that background, any words about the judge become especially sensitive.

And it is important to emphasize: in meaning and tone, it looked like an emotional—and, to a large extent, justified—outrage in the wake of a colleague’s death, not an “organized attack” and not incitement to anything unlawful. It was the reaction of a person dealing with grief and a sense of injustice—yet even that proved enough to set a criminal case in motion.

What this means going forward

If a criminal case can be launched over a comparatively “mild” word like “dishonorable,” the safety line drops dangerously low. It suggests that not only protesting becomes risky—so does publicly criticizing a judge’s decision, saying “this is unjust,” “this is wrong,” “I disagree.” Today it is a comment about a judge; tomorrow it can be any sharp remark about another official. And the mechanism can be activated not only “from above,” but also through denunciations: it is enough that someone wants to punish an opinion.

That is why solidarity is not abstract morality; it is practical necessity. When “others” are targeted and everyone stays silent, tomorrow “others” will be us.

Source: the Telegram channel “Pravozashchitnik Kazantsev” (“Human Rights Defender Kazantsev”) — https://t.me/kazantsevvn/3100

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