Maxim Chishkovsky is a resident of Vladivostok and worked as a construction site supervisor. On September 27, 2022, shortly after the announcement of mobilization, Maxim set fire to a military enlistment office in his hometown. In April 2023, he was sentenced to 11 years in prison under Article 205 of the Russian Criminal Code (“Terrorist Act”). The first 3 years of his sentence are to be served in a prison facility, and the remainder in a high-security penal colony.
On the night of September 27, 2022, Maxim poured gasoline into a window of the enlistment office in Vladivostok and set it on fire. The windowsill and frame caught fire, but the flames were extinguished by on-duty police officers in the building. On October 7, Maxim was detained. Initially, the case was filed under Article 167 of the Russian Criminal Code (“Intentional Destruction or Damage to Property”), but later the FSB reclassified the arson as a terrorist act under Article 205, Part 1.
In his testimony, Chishkovsky stated that the arson was his way of expressing civic protest against the military actions in Ukraine. He also hoped to destroy conscription lists and send a message to the country’s leadership about the inadmissibility of war.
In April 2023, the 1st Eastern District Military Court found Chishkovsky guilty of “Terrorist Act” under Article 205, Part 1, in a single court session and sentenced him to 11 years in prison. The appeal upheld the verdict. The first 3 years of his sentence are to be served in a prison facility, and the rest in a high-security penal colony.
After the verdict, FSB officers reportedly offered Maxim an “interview” styled as an “operational recording,” in which he was to claim that the arson was allegedly carried out under the orders of the Polish ambassador, supposedly to pressure the ambassador into leaving Russia.
Maxim’s Letter:
“There’s not much to tell about myself—work, home, family. I worked as a construction site supervisor, went skiing in the winter, swam in ice holes during Epiphany, and in the summer used to ride a bike. I had an interest in motocross and studied Polish. After my release, I plan to change professions—I want to become a cost estimator—less stressful work with stable weekends.
In 2014, I was against ‘Ukrainian Nazis’ and was happy that Crimea was ours. But when the LPR and DPR ‘failed’ to join Russia, I began to doubt whether the goal was to help a brotherly people or if someone else needed the internal conflict in Ukraine. I wasn’t very politically active—other than comments on Instagram—and didn’t oppose what was happening. I regularly watched Channels 1 and 2, dutifully voted for Putin, but one day realized that TV was pure propaganda and stopped watching. After the pension reform and constitutional changes, I saw an old clip from 2004 saying, ‘It’s the mindset that needs changing, not the Constitution.’ I still agree with that sentiment, and I can’t explain what’s been happening except as madness. Therefore, I reacted very negatively to the ‘special military operation,’ though I didn’t join protests—I wanted to but feared problems at work, fines, and arrests. So, I just followed the situation on Telegram.
When mobilization began, I felt it would affect me too. Amid the chaos around equipment, supplies, and pay for the mobilized, and not knowing what would happen to my family or why I should go kill someone, my ‘patriotism’ didn’t increase. When I got a draft notice but wasn’t home to receive it, I assumed they’d just deliver it another day. I wasn’t planning to flee or hide. I decided to make a final statement of civic protest by committing arson. This was primarily a protest, but if my son’s file had burned, it would have been a good result too. I also knew that if I ended up in a trench, I’d regret not doing it. Expecting to be mobilized soon anyway, I didn’t try hard to cover my tracks, which I now regret, having received 11 years. But I think such a long sentence shows the impact of my act, at least delaying the second wave of mobilization a bit. 
I’m interested in the history of Poland and the Middle Ages, as well as more recent history. I’d love to read books in Polish and get news that isn’t from ‘KP’ or ‘Vesti FM.’ My cellmate received a prison newsletter once, but the local administration banned it, apparently not liking the pictures.”
Maxim Chishkovsky is currently held in the Minusinsk prison in Krasnoyarsk Krai, more than 4,000 km from home. You can support him with a letter!
HOW TO HELP
Address for letters:
662606, Красноярский край, г. Минусинск, ул. Горького, д. 114, ФКУ Т,
Чишковский Максим Сергеевич 1980 г.р.
It is possible to send letters through the electronic service «Ф-письмо», РосУзник.
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