Dear friends, brothers and sisters,
At the end of last month, the Saami Parliamentary Council made a very important statement for us — the Saami from Russia. They called for Saami asylum seekers from Russia to be granted special consideration in the asylum systems of Norway, Sweden, and Finland.
As one of those Russian Saami seeking asylum, I want to express my deepest gratitude to the Saami Parliamentary Council and to the entire Saami community.
But as far as I know, discussions on this issue are still ongoing within the Saami community. Some believe that the existing procedures under Norwegian law are enough, and no special arrangements are necessary.
So today, I’m writing this letter — a letter asking for help. A letter asking for solidarity. The same Saami solidarity we often speak of at our gatherings, at conferences, or sitting around a fire in a lavvu. We say these words so often that many have forgotten what they truly mean.
I honestly don’t even know exactly who I’m writing to. I just hope someone will hear.
***
Recently, some have accused me of using my voice, my interviews, my appeals, to solve a personal problem — because I am an asylum seeker.
And it’s true, in part. I’ve been waiting for a decision on my case for 37 months. That’s not just a number — it’s three winters and three summers in refugee reception center. Place where life is far from easy, and where every morning starts with the hope of seeing your name on the notice board.
I still receive threats from Russia. That doesn’t help my sense of security. And yet, there’s still no decision. Many other asylum seekers — even those who applied long after me — have already been granted protection. People are surprised to learn that a member of the Indigenous Saami people is still waiting after all this time. In the meantime, I continue to live in isolation, far from my Saami homeland. Far from our language and the sense of home.
***
As you probably know, I am not the only Sámi person from Russia who is waiting for political asylum. During this time, we have appealed not only to the Sámi Parliament. We have contacted the United Nations, the UN Expert Mechanism on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, members of the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, the UN Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in the Russian Federation, the Norwegian Ombudsman. The latter responded that such a long waiting period is a violation of human rights. Yet still, there is no decision.
But today, I want to speak not only about myself. I want to speak about solidarity. Solidarity means a brotherly hand in difficult times. It means standing together and helping your neighbour. Helping the weak and supporting the marginalized.
Sápmi is not just a line on the map. It is our home, our culture, our language, and our collective memory. It is a territory divided without our Nation’s consent. The Sámi did not draw these borders. They were drawn by states that have oppressed our people for centuries.
***
I probably don’t need to explain to you what Russia is like nowadays. I think you know.
Today, the political regime in Russia has turned into a monster. A monster that kills. It kills children and women in Ukraine. It shows no mercy even to its own people. So far, we have lost 7 Sámi on the battlefield. That might seem like a small number, but for the Russian Sámi — of whom only 1,363 remain on the Russian side of Sápmi — these are enormous losses. We are being killed. Quickly at war. Slowly on our own land.
Right now, the Russian authorities are launching massive new resource extraction projects on the Russian side of Sápmi. Our land has already been devastated by Soviet-era industrialisation. Now, new projects threaten our reindeer, our fish, our hunting — our very existence. Russia wants more resources from our land. More lithium. More rare earth metals.
And do you know why Putin needs them? Among other things, they will be used in military electronics — to produce more missiles, which will then be sent to Ukraine. To kill even more people.
***
In Russia, we — Indigenous rights defenders — openly opposed industrial expansion on Sámi lands in the Murmansk region and in other areas inhabited by Indigenous peoples. For that, the authorities disliked us. We were persecuted, detained, criminal cases were opened against us. We were targeted by state media, labeled as enemies of Russia and agents of the West.
I was able to leave, but others stayed behind and are now forced to remain silent. Many gave up and started working with the authorities, taking part in endless festivals and celebrations, and contributing to Putin’s propaganda.
Last year, our human rights organization was labeled a terrorist organization by the Russian government. Simply for speaking the truth — about violations of Indigenous rights and crimes against our land.
***
I also want to explain why I continue to seek justice here in Norway, even though to many it seems like I’m doing it only for myself.
Maybe not all of you know, but back in Russia, together with my colleagues, I fought for the right to hunt — even as a city resident. Many said it was just for my own benefit, that urban people don’t need traditional hunting. They can buy everything at the store.
I filed a lawsuit, and we went through all court levels — from local to the Constitutional Court of Russia. People told us not to bother. They said it was impossible to win in Putin’s Russia, especially on a case concerning Indigenous rights. But we won. And the Constitutional Court ruled in our favor.
If you don’t know the specifics of Russian law, it might be hard to understand why this matters. It wasn’t about people in cities wanting to hunt for fun. It was about territories.
There are many places in Russia where Indigenous peoples actually live and carry out their traditional way of life, but these territories are not included in the official government lists. Sometimes that’s due to lobbying by businesses who don’t want competition. As a result, Indigenous communities living on such lands are legally treated the same as the general population — they have no right to hunt, fish, or gather natural resources unless they purchase commercial licenses. If they do hunt or fish without licenses, they are arrested, called poachers, and punished. There are many such cases.
For example, in the Murmansk region, only 4 out of 10 municipalities are included in the official register. Yet the Sámi live throughout the entire region.
***
Let me share just one example. In the Siberian region of Yakutia, a few years ago, an Evenk hunter named Stepan Pakhomov went hunting in his ancestral area — a place where his people had lived for generations. But because this territory was not included in the official registry, he was arrested and put on trial. The legal battle went on for several years. Stepan tried to prove his innocence. Public opinion in Yakutia was on his side.
Still, the prosecutors and the police pressed forward with the criminal case. During those years, Stepan’s health and mental state deteriorated. His wife left him. Eventually, he was sentenced to prison. While serving his sentence, in a moment of despair, he signed a contract with the Ministry of Defence — believing that joining the war might be a way out. He was sent to the front and killed shortly after.
It was exactly because of cases like this that we believed it was so important to win in court.
***
Yes, I know. Many people say: why bother going to court if the laws in Putin’s Russia don’t work, if decisions aren’t enforced? But this Constitutional Court ruling is already being discussed in Russia — both by Indigenous communities and by some regional authorities. They are considering how to use it, how to amend local legislation based on this precedent.
To me, that matters — even if no one mentions my name during those discussions. I believe it’s important to give people a tool they can use in future work.
And just as importantly, I hope this decision will serve the next generations of Indigenous rights defenders in Russia. I do hope that Putin’s regime won’t last forever. And when that time comes, the court case I filed — that seemingly small act — might help shape new laws to protect our people and our lands.
I’m not sharing this example to draw attention to myself. I’m sharing it to show how one individual case can lead to change in the system.
***
So today I ask for your understanding. My application for asylum in Norway, as a Sámi from Russia, is the first of its kind. Yes — it is a personal case. But many Sámi in Russia are watching it closely. I receive letters and questions all the time. People want to know how the case is going. And I have to tell them: there’s still no decision. Years have passed. And hope is fading.
I know that many people in Russia would speak out more boldly for Indigenous rights — for the right to traditional lands and ways of life — if they believed they could count on protection in case of persecution. But when they look at what’s happening in Norway — they give up. They see that there is no protection. So they remain silent. Silent about their rights — because otherwise, there will be repression, criminal charges, fear.
That is why I continue to write and speak.
Some recent developments in the world have shown us how quickly a democratic country can shift toward authoritarianism — and how its citizens may then find themselves seeking asylum in what remains of the free world.
Let us remember the First Sámi Congress held in Trondheim in 1917. That is why February 6 is our Day of Unity and Solidarity.
I don’t know what else to say. Perhaps I should end with a line from the film The Kautokeino Rebellion, a line I’ve come to see as my personal motto:
“Some things are hard to speak of, but silence leads nowhere. We must speak and try to understand — even if there is no hope. Hope does not die. It passes into new hearts, like spring wind carrying the scent of summer.”
Respectfully,
Andrei Danilov
Sámi from Lovozero
April 7, 2025