Lidia Mikhailova has traveled all over the world. She’s lived in Moscow, Amsterdam, and Sydney before returning to Saint Petersburg. Born in 1982 in Togliatti on the Volga River, she holds a degree in finance and economics—but life took her on a very different path. She worked as a freelance journalist, in marketing, as a manager of large-scale events, and as a translator from English. She is also the mother of three children. For the past 15 years, anthroposophy has been the red thread of her life; she is a member of the First Class of the School for Spiritual Science and has just completed her eurythmy diploma. Drawing on this multifaceted biography—thoroughly Russian and yet at home in the wider world—she speaks with Louis Defèche.
A Brief Opening
Louis Defèche: Here in Europe, we naturally have more contact with the Western world than with Russia. That’s why I wanted to hear from someone who lives there.
Lidia Mikhailova In your question, you’re already separating Russia from the West. But it’s true, we are something different. Russia is one of the countries that isn’t really Westernized. To people who don’t understand how we think, we can seem mysterious—and therefore dangerous. But I don’t believe that has anything specifically to do with the current crisis; it’s almost always been that way. There was only a very brief period, about thirty years, when the doors suddenly swung wide open. We had this exhilarating, intoxicating feeling that the world is one, that we’re all one family.
Russians have been able to travel since the 1990s, and I turned 18 in 2000. During the Soviet era, the divide was absolute: two worlds that never met. Then the world became one, and it felt wonderful to be welcomed into the Western family. Suddenly, the doors were closed again. It was a tremendous shock. When the door was slammed in our faces, we wondered whether the West had ever actually seen us as equals.
When do you think the door closed?
The first act began with the so-called annexation of Crimea in 2014 and the European Union’s initial sanctions. Some difficulties arose, but they were manageable. When war broke out in 2022, the sanctions were tightened. They affected the general population and, in particular, made travel considerably more difficult. Travel is not banned by the EU, but it has become very difficult. Even with a visa—which is now quite hard to get—Russians can be turned away by the EU border police. All of this seems designed to prevent contact between Europeans and Russians.
Of course, part of the Russian population is strongly pro-Western. They consider the sanctions to be justified and fair and believe that Russia must be punished for its actions. For the majority, though, it feels unjust. When the conflict between Russia and Ukraine broke out, no one wanted to know why Russia was acting that way. When two children argue, a good teacher asks both of them what happened and only then forms an independent judgment about what to do. From the very beginning of the war, it was clear that no one in the West cared about the source of Russia’s pain—a pain strong enough to drive Russia to take military action against a neighbor. That was deeply humiliating.
A Russian Perspective
Can you explain in more detail how you understand the Russian viewpoint and why you think it has never been heard?
There is one thing that cannot be ignored: the civil war in Ukraine. A civil war raged in the Donbas for several years.1 But when the war with Russia began, this fact was entirely obscured. From Russia’s perspective, it was not initially a war between Russia and Ukraine, but rather a conflict within Ukraine. The Russians made significant diplomatic efforts to avoid military intervention. They put forward numerous proposals for a solution, all of which were rejected by the West—which, from Russia’s perspective, demonstrated that there was no genuine willingness to engage in constructive dialogue. And indeed, in Russia, the situation is not perceived as a war against Ukraine, but as a war between Russia and the West as a whole.
It has to be said that you can hardly rely on the media: they distort the facts—on both sides. The West calls this an unprovoked attack. Russia says there was an acute military threat. Both claims are refuted by the other side. How do we find what’s true? By doing our own research, learning to think clearly, and forming our own independent judgment. Then we begin to know which forces are actually at play—beyond national borders and the material realm.
But the annexation of Crimea was considered unacceptable because it violated Ukraine’s recognized borders—and it is usually described as Crimea’s transition from a free, democratic Ukraine to a Russian dictatorship. What’s your take on this?
Politics must also be viewed pragmatically, proceeding from the economy and military security. Sevastopol, in the Crimea, is Russia’s most strategically important naval base on the Black Sea. After the Maidan, the new Ukrainian government appeared neither friendly nor willing to negotiate; for Russia, keeping the base became a matter of vital security. It was a highly controversial but pragmatic move: Russia used the opportunity to secure the base before it was too late and took responsibility for the surrounding population. The fact that this security issue keeps resurfacing shows that the Cold War never truly ended; Russia and Europe continue to view each other as a threat.
People I know who were there say that there was no coercion during the referendum in Crimea.2 I’ve never heard of anyone being forced to vote at gunpoint. After what happened in Kyiv and on the Maidan, many felt safer joining Russia than risking similar unrest in Sevastopol. The Maidan itself was perceived as an aggressive, rather than a peaceful, solution to civil issues.3 And I consider portraying Russia as a dictatorship to be manipulation. Whenever the West is dissatisfied with a country, it labels that country a dictatorship—Venezuela, Iran, Russia. Saudi Arabia or Turkey are rarely called a dictatorship since the West has interests there. To be honest, there is no democracy anywhere; perhaps it may well be an illusion.
The Illusion of External Freedom
Can you explain that in more detail? In France, Germany, and the U.S., we describe our systems as democratic. Why would you say that this isn’t a democracy?
Democracy literally means “rule by the people.” When the “yellow vest” protest movement emerged in France in 2018, the state responded with harsh repression; thousands were injured, and some lost a hand or an eye.4 In Germany—just think of the recent demonstrations in support of Palestine, which were harshly suppressed.5 You see it everywhere: governments pursue their own agenda, not what the demonstrators are demanding. Perhaps there is something like true democracy in Switzerland, but it is rare in the world.
Many will tell you that there is a big difference, because in Russia you are not allowed to demonstrate or criticize the system.
Of course, there is a difference. In the West, you can do certain things politically that you cannot do in Russia. And yet I consider this external freedom to be largely an illusion—something anyone who has read The Philosophy of Freedom can reflect on.6 External freedom is contingent on an external authority granting it. In the West, I am free to demonstrate because it is permitted; in Russia, that authority is less liberal. But the fact that external freedom, in both cases, depends on some authority allowing it or not, shows that real freedom only truly begins within each individual.
We are becoming less free everywhere. In Russia, external freedom is restricted, but Europe is not much freer. There are many rules and pressure to adhere to “Western values.” Freedom does not lie in following values but in independent thought and spiritual life.7 Russians have a great deal of experience with this. External freedom has been restricted for decades—by the Revolution, under Stalin, and afterward, with labor camps for anyone who did not conform. That is why external freedom must transform into internal freedom. Which values are truly my own—not those I express in order to be accepted, but those I can live by despite restrictions?
Living in Russia Today
I’ve been to China several times. Many people call it a dictatorship, but the situation is much more nuanced than Western stereotypes suggest. What is everyday life like in Russia right now, and how do you feel there?
We have a long tradition of separating private daily life from political life—that’s how it was under the tsars and under the Soviet Union. There was always a sense that the government was doing its own thing and ordinary people were doing theirs. I believe people don’t feel they’re in danger or being watched or controlled—unless they’re deeply involved in the political opposition. Actions have consequences, just like the laws of nature: if you go out in the rain without an umbrella, you’ll get wet. Young people can get into trouble if they protest on the streets out of anger. I’ve heard of cases where people were arrested through no fault of their own. I’ve never experienced anything like that in my own circle, but I do believe it can happen. The task is to stand up for our rights and uphold human dignity in a respectful way—without acting out like teenagers.
The costs of war also include domestic propaganda, which is understandable. We are at war, and a certain degree of propaganda always goes hand in hand with war. This can be difficult for professionals in the arts, because they feel their freedom of expression is being restricted. Some complain about censorship by the Ministry of Culture, which can pressure artists to justify the war. But there is also the other side. Since the war began, Russian artists have been shut out of the international art scene. Valery Gergiev [general and artistic director of the Mariinsky and Bolshoi Theatres] lost contracts in Germany because he did not condemn the military action; others lost work for the same reason or simply because of their citizenship. Who does this benefit—does it end a war? Does it serve humanistic, democratic goals?
Earlier, you mentioned the difference between Western and Russian culture without going into detail. How would you describe it?
What I treasure about Russia is that the people feel more human: sometimes rude and unpolished, but often more heartfelt and with more warmth than, say, Germans. Comparing Europeans to Russians is like comparing city dwellers to country folk who are simpler but with a living essence. Among Russians, there is still a strong aversion to Germans—even among my generation. Many dislike the German language because it sounds like the language of the invading army, and in almost every family, a grandfather or great-grandfather fell in the war. We must not forget that millions of Russians lost their lives as a result of the German invasion. But when a German walks down the street, he could be immediately embraced, taken home, treated to a meal, and made to feel welcome and at ease. Abstractly, Germans are “bad,” but in direct contact people are friendly. This openness of heart may appear childlike, but it reflects a culture that is still in a sort of childhood.
Polarity is also a typically Russian trait. Alongside this naivety, one finds extraordinary cultural, intellectual, and technical accomplishments. Feeling love and hate at the same time is very Russian. Foreigners often ask what Russians think of Putin. If they like what he does, they cheer him on. If they dislike what he or the government does, he’s to blame—which is a bit naive. But people everywhere are dissatisfied with their governments. So when someone tells me that Russians are dissatisfied with Putin, I ask: Are Germans satisfied with Chancellor Merz? Do the French fully support President Macron? Why should we expect Russians to always be satisfied when the French and Germans aren’t?
The same polarity is also evident in the war in Ukraine. Many are angry at the Ukrainians because, in their eyes, they have succumbed to Western propaganda—they have become a tool of the West and refuse to acknowledge that the West does not care about them but only wants to exploit them. And yet, on the other hand, these are our brothers—why do we have to fight our brothers? We truly wish the conflict could have been resolved differently.
War, Peace, and Responsibility
You think it happened because no other solution could be found. But it has led to people being killed, to countless people on both sides losing their lives, and to families being torn apart. How does that make you feel personally?
First of all, I’m lucky: I haven’t lost anyone. Still, the loss of human life makes me very sad; it seems senseless, and I don’t know where this is leading. When people ask why Putin doesn’t just stop, I come back to the first question: Why did he start this in the first place? I believe he didn’t want war. He was desperately seeking a diplomatic solution that would respect Russia’s security concerns. I think he believed—or was advised—that a show of force would bring the West to the negotiating table. Just weeks after the war began, during the negotiations in Istanbul in the spring of 2022, a peace treaty framework was already on the table. From Russia’s perspective, an agreement was within reach. It is well known that British Prime Minister Boris Johnson traveled to Kyiv and advised them to keep fighting.8 Now the Russian government no longer sees any point in talks. It has once again concluded that no one took it seriously. So it is pressing on, hoping that the other side will run out of resources and finally sit down at the table to have a serious conversation on how we can achieve real peace.
Where this war—and every other war currently taking place—is concerned, I feel that we are all complicit. We are guilty because, as humanity, we have not evolved enough to avoid wars. I don’t want to fight against anyone, but I, too, bear some of the blame because we, as humanity, have not done our homework. We have never overcome the conceptions that strength and violence can solve problems. As a global community, we have not gone far enough in our capacity for peace. But we all need to learn this—not just Russia.
From your perspective: What would have to happen for Russia to be able to say, “We have what we need”?
A few years ago, in June 2021, Putin published an op-ed in Die Zeit in which he advocated for a partnership with Europe and shared security.9 To me, that was a genuine call to action—similar to Gorbachev’s “New Political Thinking”—an invitation to work together to lay the foundations on which peace could be built in the future in the spirit of a shared European home. I found that truly inspiring. And it was simply brushed aside. Historically speaking, it was the Germans and the French who invaded Russia, not the other way around. When people ask if Putin wants to attack Europe, I ask, “Why would we need to do that?” We are already the largest and most resource-rich country on Earth. We don’t need Europe, but we can help each other.
The West offers only punishment, but the framework of guilt and innocence solves nothing. The real solution would be for all sides to stop—not because anyone has “won,” but because we all recognize that this is not the right way—and to sit down at the table and to envision new concepts for a way of living together, taking into account the challenges and the new consciousness that is currently emerging. That would be the best scenario for the future of humanity. In my view, the first presupposition for ending the war is for Europe to shed its fear of the Russians. We must not forget that on the night the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, not a single drop of blood was shed. The Soviet Union was not shattered by the West; instead of holding his empire together by force, Gorbachev decided that the game had gone on too long and stepped down. That was probably the most peaceful gesture of the twentieth century, and Russia as a country received hardly any recognition for it. Overcoming fear is the top priority, and to do that, we must maintain contact—not just between delegations, but between people—until we stop fearing one another, begin to respect one another, and feel that we are one.
There is another, even more difficult point. Blaming others is often a form of projection. Ordinary Europeans should know how propaganda takes advantage of this. We all need to learn to critically examine the media. Ultimately, it matters less what form of government we have—whether it’s more democratic or more authoritarian—than whether we can form our own independent judgment. If we, as human beings, work to wake up and develop our humanity, the world will change. It won’t change if we just complain and point fingers at others.
Truth, Compassion, and Friendship
Someone might object: This Lidia is under the influence of Russian propaganda. Or: She can’t speak freely!
We must learn to recognize lies. We live in a world full of lies, and this whole war is based on them. For anyone who is seriously engaged with anthroposophy, this is a central question: How can we recognize lies? I think we have to develop a genuine interest in other people, rather than forcing preconceived notions onto them. If you develop a sense of truth, you’ll be able to tell in a conversation with me whether I sound like someone under the influence of propaganda or whether I can be trusted to be sincere. It takes a little heart. So if someone insists that I’m not free, I invite that person to come meet with me and talk to me!
What would you say to someone in Ukraine who is angry at Russia, is suffering, and is fighting for Ukraine’s freedom?
That’s a difficult question. On the one hand, I sincerely feel sorry for everyone who is suffering because of this war. On the other hand, it’s not my personal fault. I haven’t killed anyone, so I can’t ask for forgiveness when there’s nothing to forgive. I’m fortunate to have never been attacked, although I was often afraid of that while traveling in Europe two or three years ago. And I have Ukrainian roots. I have a Ukrainian maiden name, and my grandparents came from Ukraine. Like a typical Russian, I’m perhaps 75 percent Ukrainian and 15 percent Crimean Karaim; the rest is something else. Nevertheless, I consider myself Russian through and through. If someone were to attack me, I wouldn’t see much point in arguing. I would simply say, “I’m sorry. Not for what my country is doing, but because you are suffering—because your suffering is also my suffering.” I suffer along with everyone who suffers.
Russians are dying in this war, too.
Yes, and I feel their pain as well. But I’ve also met Russians who volunteered to go to the front lines. I can’t judge that. And many who aren’t participating in the fighting are suffering, too. If we, as humanity, were to look upon people’s suffering with more compassion—and focus less on politics and the economy—we would live in a different world. Once you embark on the path of compassion, you can no longer be selective: you empathize with everyone and want to make peace. Legally and politically, we’re practically at an impasse; I believe the solution lies purely on a human level.
As long as compassion remains selective, the conflict will continue to smolder. That is the problem with this war: so much support for one side and so much blame heaped on the other, without anyone really asking questions. It is not just a war between two countries but a problem for all of humanity—and not an isolated case, since six or seven wars are raging at the same time. Humanity is feverish, and we’re handling each symptom in isolation instead of recognising the disease. These are signs that we’re doing something wrong and need to take a different approach. To realize this, we must all raise our consciousness—a fitting task for the age of the consciousness soul. This is a task for all of humanity.
To close: How do you view anthroposophy in Russia today?
The living connection between Russian anthroposophy and its German and Swiss siblings has largely been disrupted. Only a few Western anthroposophists support Russia or wish to travel there. Now we must learn to stand on our own two feet—presumably a healthy but difficult phase of development. Yet, anthroposophy lives on. Many initiatives are struggling because few new people are joining them. Waldorf schools are faring somewhat better because children continue to come, while other initiatives that depend on adults are, in some cases, becoming stagnant. The first generations were brimming with enthusiasm; many of these people have since passed away, and younger people are only joining occasionally. There are no legal obstacles like those in Soviet times; events are open to the public. Because of the war, European support has dried up—and not just financially. Camphill villages are missing young volunteers from Europe. It’s amusing to hear people say, “The Russians won’t let us in,” when you can actually get a visa online in just four days!
Russia is less free in some respects and more free in others. If you want to take an unconventional path, there’s room for it, but you have to work for it. Unlike in Germany, homeschooling is permitted in Russia.10 My children attend a Waldorf school that works without being registered. There’s a movement of small Waldorf schools that teach children the way they see fit. German farmers interested in biodynamic initiatives come here because agriculture isn’t as heavily regulated. In Russia, there’s some leeway if you look for it.
Any last words?
When I was a teenager and Germans came to visit, they always said, “Freundschaft.” [friendship] “Make love, not war” sounds a bit cliché these days, so I’d put it this way: “Make friends, not enemies.” Peace is hard to achieve, but it’s still possible!
Thank you very much—it was a pleasure talking to you.
Please Note: This conversation took place in English, but the article was back-translated from the edited German article and revised by the interviewee. As was the case with the interview with Serhii Kopyl (”Everything I Own, I Carry with Me” Das Goetheanum: English Edition 2026/20), which presented the perspective of a Ukrainian anthroposophist, Das Goetheanum does not endorse the interviewee’s interpretations here either but solely provides a forum for the expression of their views and invites readers to reflect on the issues.
Cover image Lidia Mikhailova, Photo: Xue Li
Footnotes
- The literature describes the Donbas War of 2014–2022 as a hybrid conflict. It involved a genuine local insurgency, with a majority of local fighters, alongside military support from Russia, which has been documented since at least August 2014. See Serhiy Kudelia, “Domestic Sources of the Donbas Insurgency,” PONARS Eurasia Policy Memo, no. 351 (September 2014): 1–6; Ivan Katchanovski, “The Separatist War in Donbas: A Violent Break-up of Ukraine?,” European Politics and Society 17, no. 4 (2016): 473–489.
- Independent polls conducted in 2014 and 2019 confirm that a majority of the Crimean population supported annexation by Russia. The referendum, however, is not recognized internationally. See John O’Loughlin and Gerard Toal, “The Crimea Conundrum: Legitimacy and Public Opinion after Annexation,” Eurasian Geography and Economics 60, no. 1 (2019): 6–27.
- The Maidan protests of 2013–14 claimed over 100 lives. According to surveys conducted in April 2014, many people in southern and eastern Ukraine, as well as in Crimea, perceived the upheaval as an armed coup. See Kyiv International Institute of Sociology (KIIS), The Views and Opinions of South-Eastern Regions Residents of Ukraine: April 2014 (Kyiv: Kyiv International Institute of Sociology, April 20, 2014).
- Thousands of people were injured during the “yellow vest” protests of 2018–19; independent counts document approximately 30 cases of eye loss and several cases of hands being severed. See Amnesty International, “Gilets jaunes en France: un bilan inquiétant” [Yellow vests in France: A worrying assessment], Amnesty International France, November 18, 2019.
- In 2023, a large number of pro-Palestinian assemblies were banned in Germany. UN experts criticized the criminalization and police violence, and in 2025, a Berlin court ruled that the dissolution of the Palestine Congress was unlawful. See Amnesty International, “Europe: Right to Protest Must Be Protected During Latest Escalations in Israel/OPT,” Amnesty International, October 20, 2023; Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR), “UN Experts Urge Germany to Halt Criminalisation and Police Violence against Palestinian Solidarity Activism,” October 16, 2025.
- Rudolf Steiner, The Philosophy of Spiritual Activity. Fundamental Features of a Modern Worldview: Results of Soul Observation According to the Natural-Scientific Method, CW 4 (Tiburon, CA: Chadwick Library Press, 2020), also known as The Philosophy of Freedom.
- Alexander Solzhenitsyn made a similar observation in his 1978 speech at Harvard: Even without censorship, he argued, a “fashion in thinking” prevails in the West that barely allows unfashionable ideas to be heard and fosters “dangerous herd instincts.” Freedom, he contended, must therefore be secured not legally, but only inwardly. See Alexander Solzhenitsyn, “A World Split Apart,” address, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA, June 8, 1978.
- The fact that Boris Johnson advised Kyiv against signing the agreement in April 2022 is primarily based on a statement by the head of the Ukrainian delegation, Davyd Arakhamiia. See Olena Roshchina, “Head of Ukraine’s Leading Party Claims Russia Proposed ‘Peace’ in Exchange for Refusal to Join NATO in Spring of 2022,” Ukrayinska Pravda (November 24, 2023).
- On the 80th anniversary of Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union, Putin published an op-ed in Die Zeit. See Vladimir Putin, “Being Open, Despite the Past,” Die Zeit, June 22, 2021.
- The Russian Education Act recognizes family-based education as a form of general education (Art. 17); in Germany, compulsory schooling effectively precludes homeschooling. See Russian Federation, Federal Law No. 273-FZ, “On Education in the Russian Federation,” December 29, 2012, art. 17, Sobranie zakonodatel’stva Rossiiskoi Federatsii [Collection of Legislation of the Russian Federation], 2012, no. 53, art. 7598; European Court of Human Rights, Wunderlich v. Germany, no. 18925/15, Judgment of January 10, 2019.
