The news that the German special services have opened a special direct line for residents and citizens of Russian, Chinese and Iranian origin fearing transnational repression from their states reminded me of how I myself became acquainted with German counterintelligence.

It’s quite an amusing story.

Immediately after moving to Berlin, I received what was practically an official letter inviting me to a meeting at one of the German security agencies. 

Moreover, the department whose employees I was being invited to meet was precisely the one responsible for protecting the constitutional order.

This in itself made me smile. The department that imprisoned me in Russia has almost the same name: Service for the Protection of the Constitutional System and the Fight against Terrorism.

Having arrived at the appointed time, I went into an office where I met about six or seven people.

What immediately surprised me was that these were not at all the traditional stern, grey “bulldog faces” who look at you as if you’re definitely guilty. Sitting in front of me were fairly young people, around 30-40, clearly educated and intelligent-looking. They spoke to me quite kindly, asked what risks I saw for myself, whether I was under threat and how I ended up in a Russian prison.

The unexpected feeling for any person who has spent a long time dealing with the Russian law-enforcement system was not even the content of the conversation. These people did not see me as an enemy or a source of new shoulder straps. After the Russian experience, this is also something you have to get used to.

At the end of the conversation, they asked whether I thought I was currently at risk.

I answered that I did not.

I said: “You know, according to the ponyatiya, if a deal has been made concerning a person, his previous sins are wiped clean. Therefore, I think the Kremlin does not yet perceive me as an enemy, as I have been exchanged.”

We were talking through an interpreter, who hesitated at this moment. It was clear that the word ponyatiya — a term originating in Russian prisons, describing a set of unwritten understandings — was difficult to translate. Or perhaps my interlocutors were struggling with the concept as a whole.

I decided to explain it more simply.

“Have you ever played Mario?”

They nodded and smiled.

“Remember when the hero gets temporary invulnerability powers and starts flashing? Well, in my case, I am still flashing for now.”

They laughed, which greatly eased the atmosphere.

The main purpose of that meeting, as far as I understood, was to tell me they would help if I ever felt under threat.

Since then, I have not encountered any situations in which I would have considered such an approach really necessary. But I still have their contact details lying around somewhere.

I do not know whether every Russian who sought refuge in Germany had a meeting like this. Possibly not. But that is precisely why the news about the appearance of an official hotline initially surprised me a little. I already assumed that such mechanisms existed anyway.

In addition to the hotline, Germany’s Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution, the BfV, issued a special brochure for people who, on German territory,........

© The Moscow Times