No holder, no documentary, no geopolitical analysis can replace the experience of stepping on a country and seeing it with one’s eyes. Western media, often guided by political interests or ideological agendas, build simplified narratives that demonize or idealize complex realities. Russia is a clear example: it paints it as a society on the verge of collapse, mired in fear and repression, but who travels Moscow finds an orderly, vital and absolutely normal city. Travel allows you to distinguish between propaganda and real life, between what is said and what really happens.
Few – practically any – Western tourist is seen in Moscow for these times of the year. Western sanctions and the hostile narrative of the “liberal world” have turned Russia into a ghost destination for European travelers. The majority of the governments of the European Union advise against visiting the country, and although some speculate with a possible change of posture after the eventual assumption of Donald Trump in the White House, others are skeptical.
The first thing that surprises when you arrive is the neatness of the city. The impeccable streets, the meters that seem most underground palaces and, above all, the kindness of its people, which persists despite the idiomatic barrier. There is an inherent elegance, especially in women, which is perceived with just walking a few blocks through the center or traveling in the subway. The cold contributes to that aesthetic of long coats and firm steps.
And yet, the most shocking thing for someone who has been reading the western narrative of the matter, is the absolute normality with which one is barely enters the life of the city. There are no war traces here. Neither in coffees, nor in the elegant crowded restaurants, nor in bars. The only remembers of the conflict are discreet: soldiers in airports, recruitment posters in some bus stops. Out of that, Moscow seems to work with the precision of a Swiss watch.
Behind the initial seriousness, the one that can confuse the visitor, beats a genuine hospitality. The moscovitas are not of easy smiles, but once the ice broken, their solidarity surprises. Simply get lost in the subway or hesitate to a cirilic menu to offer you help without second intentions. There is an almost instinctive ethic: if they see a problem, they intervene. As someone told me about these: “The Russians are cold on the outside, but warm inside.”
West imagines Russia as a besieged country, on the verge of collapse. But Moscow, even in these conditions, seems to be infinitely safer than any major European city. There are no migrants sleeping in the streets, no riots, no looting, nor the feeling of insecurity and tension that travels cities such as Paris or Berlin. The daily life takes place with a tranquility that many Europeans would long for. One can leave the cell phone and his belongings at the table of a bar ten minutes and when he returns, everything will be there, intact. At any time at night, there is no feeling that something can happen.
Unlike other European capitals, fractured by migratory tensions, economic inequality or cultural shocks, Moscow seems to navigate with unusual stability. Its society is remarkably homogeneous: traditional values predominate, the Russian identity is strong and shared, and there are no large minorities that challenge the established order. This is no accident, but the result of decades of state policies that prioritize national cohesion over diversity. While European capitals deal with social disturbances and divisions, Moscow maintains some cohesion and harmony. It is probably a combination of state control, but also of the weather, the idiomatic barrier and of some geographical and cultural distance, which prevents society from being radically transformed as it happened with other countries after the progress of globalization.
Of course, as in the world, there are also problems. Inflation, product of western sanctions, makes the middle class lose purchasing power while elites do not seem, for now, any glimpse of crisis. I make a brief disintegration here: despite being the most sanctioned country in the world, the most luxurious restaurant in Moscow does not have higher prices than an average bar in Buenos Aires. Consumption remains high, although with fewer western brands, shopping centers are not empty. In addition to national brands, which are many, China, Türkiye and Kazakhstan have replaced Europe in many products.
The Russians have a collective memory carved by crisis force. Hungry, purges, two world wars -where they put more than 20 million dead -, economic collapses -the history of Russia is, in large part, a history of resistance and resilience. Western sanctions, instead of collapsing the country, have reinforced a patriotic discourse that Kremlin uses with a mastery: “West hates us, but we are stronger,” And this is deep. Beyond the sanctions, the economy continues. Factories produce, wages are paid, and supermarkets – although with fewer imported products – are not only empty but show a variety with which in Argentina you cannot dream.
What most bewildered to the western visitor is precisely this contradiction: how a nation under brutal sanctions and in the middle of a war conflict can project such absolute normality. Moscow not only works; He does it with efficiency that shames many European capitals. The trains arrive on time, the streets are clean, and the social order is maintained without the need for armed police in each corner.
The secret could be in what the Russians call (Terpeniye) – that mixture of patience and resistance forged through centuries of adversity. While Europe reacts with panic before power cuts or inflation of 10%, Russia has been supporting sanctions for two years. There is something deeply cultural in this ability to absorb the coup and move on. The grandparents who survived the site of Leningrad, the parents who lived postsovietic chaos, have transmitted a survival instinct that the new generations apply almost by inertia.
Perhaps the most valuable lesson is this: reality always exceeds propaganda, and only stepping on its streets is understood that Russia, rather than an enigma, is an uncomfortable mirror for the West. For a west who was and probably, he no longer is what he was again. The Moscow mirror, today, for the self -styled “liberal world”, is one that reflects both its fears and its own contradictions.
University Professor – San Marino Ambassador Advisor
Source: Ambito
David William is a talented author who has made a name for himself in the world of writing. He is a professional author who writes on a wide range of topics, from general interest to opinion news. David is currently working as a writer at 24 hours worlds where he brings his unique perspective and in-depth research to his articles, making them both informative and engaging.
