The wave of criticism directed at the developer Alexey Semenyachenko following the publication of excerpts from an audio recording of his interview with a Russian-language European media outlet in the Russian media space is telling not so much for the content of the complaints as for their focus.
It is notable that the sharp surge of interest in Semenyachenko’s persona in his homeland occurred after the publication of an article in a major European media, in which the developer’s activities were described without the negative context customary for Russian media. The impression created is that the very fact of attention from the foreign press became a pretext for an attack on the businessman.
The discussion shifted not to the arguments themselves, but to the admissibility of the statements and the ‘correctness’ of the speaker’s position. As a result, the conversation about the business environment quickly moved into the realm of loyalty — and this, perhaps, is the key to understanding the whole story.
This is not about defending a specific individual, but about the right of a professional to speak publicly and with reasoned arguments about the environment in which he worked, even if his assessments turn out to be harsh or inconvenient for some.
What Was Actually Said
If one turns to the audio recording itself, there is no agitation or slogans in it. It is an attempt to describe the differences in the institutional environment in Russia and Spain from the perspective of a person who has worked in development for many years. Semenyachenko formulates his initial thesis in an extremely pragmatic way:
“Business can be conducted in any country… The main thing is the presence of a favourable, civilised environment for doing business and the state’s interest in people who know how to do it.”
He then speaks about the fundamental difference in the state’s attitude towards business:
“The more defined and inviolable the rules of the game are, the more successfully business develops.”
His assessment of the application of regulations sounds the harshest: “In Russia, the regulations are also very strict. They just apply unevenly, not to all members of the business community.”
These formulations can be considered excessive, generalising, or debatable. But in essence, this is an institutional critique of the environment, not a political statement. He is talking about the rules of the game, not about political mobilisation.
Professional Experience as a Basis for Judgement
Semenyachenko is not an external commentator. He is a developer, a candidate of economic sciences, who has worked on infrastructure projects with long investment cycles and a high degree of interaction with government structures, including participation in the construction of Olympic infrastructure projects in Sochi.
This is experience that presupposes constant contact with regulators, courts, authorities and state corporations. Therefore, his statements are not an abstract political position, but an interpretation of the practice of working within the system. It may be subjective, but it is professionally substantiated.
The War Economy and the Limits of Denial
The harshest assessments in the interview relate to the consequences of events after 2022. Semenyachenko calls the decision to start the invasion “the biggest strategic mistake of recent decades” and adds:
“For the economy in the long term, this is not even stagnation, but a slow death.” And in the short term — “the inevitable impoverishment of the population and, as a consequence, social confrontations within the country.”
One may disagree with this formulation. But to deny the very fact of the significant impact of the Russian-Ukrainian war on the economic environment today is simply impossible. Sanctions, restricted access to capital markets and technology, broken supply chains, increased regulatory control and the reallocation of budget resources towards military spending are objectively changing the structure of the economy.
The transition to a model where a significant portion of funds is directed towards military tasks inevitably reduces the space for long-term civilian investment. For a developer working on multi-year projects with a long payback horizon, this means increased uncertainty and reduced market predictability. In this logic, his practical conclusion also sounds:
“In fact, today I have frozen all my projects in Russia, and from a business point of view, they are bringing me nothing but losses.”
European sanctions, meanwhile, continue to expand, and businesses oriented towards international markets are forced to consider the prospect of further tightening of restrictions. These factors exist independently of political sympathies or antipathies — they are already embedded in economic reality.
When Professional Criticism Turns into a Question of Loyalty
Against this backdrop, the way the Russian media’s reaction was constructed is particularly telling. Instead of analysing the institutional theses, the discussion focused on the personality and motives of the speaker. The key question was not “how accurate are his assessments,” but “does he have the right to speak like that?”
The role of the Telegram space, where criticism was most harsh and personalised, proved especially noticeable. The reaction was not uniform, however: for example, the Telegram channel ‘Nezygar’, recognised as a foreign agent by the Russian authorities, offered a more restrained assessment of what was happening, which, in the view of observers, only intensified polarisation and led to a new wave of attacks on the developer himself.
In a broader context, this story has once again sharpened the question of the state of public discourse in Russia, where access to different points of view is gradually shrinking amid pressure on independent media and restrictions on the operation of popular digital platforms, including Telegram. This media dynamic does not merely reflect an emotional reaction but points to a deeper shift in the perception of the very nature of professional criticism.
It is here that the main problem arises. When professional criticism of the environment is automatically interpreted as a political statement, the very possibility of a rational discussion of institutional mechanisms is called into question. In such a mode, any entrepreneur who ventures an honest analysis of the business climate risks facing not polemic, but reputational pressure.
Paradoxically, this reaction indirectly confirms one of the central ideas of the interview: the space for public disagreement within the business environment turns out to be limited by informal expectations of a ‘correct’ position.
In Russian political practice, there is also a more formalised way of dealing with ‘inconvenient’ voices — the mechanism of designating someone a ‘foreign agent’, which in recent years has turned into a tool for pushing critics out of the public space. In this logic, the next stage could be not a discussion on the merits of the theses expressed, but an attempt to institutionally marginalise the speaker himself. Such a scenario underscores that this is no longer about a dispute of ideas, but about control over the very right to speak.
The Price of Public Honesty
The information noise that has arisen around Semenyachenko cannot be reduced to his personal biography or particular assessments. It is about something else — about the possibility of a professional conversation about the business environment without immediately translating that conversation into the realm of political loyalty.
For industries with long investment cycles — development, infrastructure and large industrial projects — the predictability of the rules and the right to openly discuss risks are basic conditions for operation. When merely raising problems becomes reputationally dangerous, businesses either retreat from the public eye or relocate their activity to more predictable jurisdictions where institutional rules appear more stable.
Some may indeed disagree with Alexey Semenyachenko’s assessments and consider some of them excessively categorical. But something else is fundamentally important: professional arguments should be discussed on their merits, not replaced by an evaluation of the speaker’s personality.
The episode involving the interview of the developer, who effectively left the country under pressure of circumstances, showed just how painfully the very attempt at a public conversation about the state of the business climate in Russia is perceived today. In doing so, it proved telling not only for one specific figure, but for the entire business environment.
The question here is about the boundaries of acceptable professional discourse. About whether a person with experience of working within the system can speak openly about its problems — and not become an object of harassment as a result. Because a person cannot be harassed for speaking the truth, however unpleasant it may be. following the publication of excerpts from an audio recording of his interview with a Russian-language European media outlet in the Russian media space is telling not so much for the content of the complaints as for their focus.
It is notable that the sharp surge of interest in Semenyachenko’s persona in his homeland occurred after the publication of an article in a major European media, in which the developer’s activities were described without the negative context customary for Russian media. The impression created is that the very fact of attention from the foreign press became a pretext for an attack on the businessman.
The discussion shifted not to the arguments themselves, but to the admissibility of the statements and the ‘correctness’ of the speaker’s position. As a result, the conversation about the business environment quickly moved into the realm of loyalty — and this, perhaps, is the key to understanding the whole story.
This is not about defending a specific individual, but about the right of a professional to speak publicly and with reasoned arguments about the environment in which he worked, even if his assessments turn out to be harsh or inconvenient for some.
What Was Actually Said
If one turns to the audio recording itself, there is no agitation or slogans in it. It is an attempt to describe the differences in the institutional environment in Russia and Spain from the perspective of a person who has worked in development for many years. Semenyachenko formulates his initial thesis in an extremely pragmatic way:
“Business can be conducted in any country… The main thing is the presence of a favourable, civilised environment for doing business and the state’s interest in people who know how to do it.”
He then speaks about the fundamental difference in the state’s attitude towards business:
“The more defined and inviolable the rules of the game are, the more successfully business develops.”
His assessment of the application of regulations sounds the harshest: “In Russia, the regulations are also very strict. They just apply unevenly, not to all members of the business community.”
These formulations can be considered excessive, generalising, or debatable. But in essence, this is an institutional critique of the environment, not a political statement. He is talking about the rules of the game, not about political mobilisation.
Professional Experience as a Basis for Judgement
Semenyachenko is not an external commentator. He is a developer, a candidate of economic sciences, who has worked on infrastructure projects with long investment cycles and a high degree of interaction with government structures, including participation in the construction of Olympic infrastructure projects in Sochi.
This is experience that presupposes constant contact with regulators, courts, authorities and state corporations. Therefore, his statements are not an abstract political position, but an interpretation of the practice of working within the system. It may be subjective, but it is professionally substantiated.
The War Economy and the Limits of Denial
The harshest assessments in the interview relate to the consequences of events after 2022. Semenyachenko calls the decision to start the invasion “the biggest strategic mistake of recent decades” and adds:
“For the economy in the long term, this is not even stagnation, but a slow death.” And in the short term — “the inevitable impoverishment of the population and, as a consequence, social confrontations within the country.”
One may disagree with this formulation. But to deny the very fact of the significant impact of the Russian-Ukrainian war on the economic environment today is simply impossible. Sanctions, restricted access to capital markets and technology, broken supply chains, increased regulatory control and the reallocation of budget resources towards military spending are objectively changing the structure of the economy.
The transition to a model where a significant portion of funds is directed towards military tasks inevitably reduces the space for long-term civilian investment. For a developer working on multi-year projects with a long payback horizon, this means increased uncertainty and reduced market predictability. In this logic, his practical conclusion also sounds:
“In fact, today I have frozen all my projects in Russia, and from a business point of view, they are bringing me nothing but losses.”
European sanctions, meanwhile, continue to expand, and businesses oriented towards international markets are forced to consider the prospect of further tightening of restrictions. These factors exist independently of political sympathies or antipathies — they are already embedded in economic reality.
When Professional Criticism Turns into a Question of Loyalty
Against this backdrop, the way the Russian media’s reaction was constructed is particularly telling. Instead of analysing the institutional theses, the discussion focused on the personality and motives of the speaker. The key question was not “how accurate are his assessments,” but “does he have the right to speak like that?”
The role of the Telegram space, where criticism was most harsh and personalised, proved especially noticeable. The reaction was not uniform, however: for example, the Telegram channel ‘Nezygar’, recognised as a foreign agent by the Russian authorities, offered a more restrained assessment of what was happening, which, in the view of observers, only intensified polarisation and led to a new wave of attacks on the developer himself.
In a broader context, this story has once again sharpened the question of the state of public discourse in Russia, where access to different points of view is gradually shrinking amid pressure on independent media and restrictions on the operation of popular digital platforms, including Telegram. This media dynamic does not merely reflect an emotional reaction but points to a deeper shift in the perception of the very nature of professional criticism.
It is here that the main problem arises. When professional criticism of the environment is automatically interpreted as a political statement, the very possibility of a rational discussion of institutional mechanisms is called into question. In such a mode, any entrepreneur who ventures an honest analysis of the business climate risks facing not polemic, but reputational pressure.
Paradoxically, this reaction indirectly confirms one of the central ideas of the interview: the space for public disagreement within the business environment turns out to be limited by informal expectations of a ‘correct’ position.
In Russian political practice, there is also a more formalised way of dealing with ‘inconvenient’ voices — the mechanism of designating someone a ‘foreign agent’, which in recent years has turned into a tool for pushing critics out of the public space. In this logic, the next stage could be not a discussion on the merits of the theses expressed, but an attempt to institutionally marginalise the speaker himself. Such a scenario underscores that this is no longer about a dispute of ideas, but about control over the very right to speak.
The Price of Public Honesty
The information noise that has arisen around Semenyachenko cannot be reduced to his personal biography or particular assessments. It is about something else — about the possibility of a professional conversation about the business environment without immediately translating that conversation into the realm of political loyalty.
For industries with long investment cycles — development, infrastructure and large industrial projects — the predictability of the rules and the right to openly discuss risks are basic conditions for operation. When merely raising problems becomes reputationally dangerous, businesses either retreat from the public eye or relocate their activity to more predictable jurisdictions where institutional rules appear more stable.
Some may indeed disagree with Alexey Semenyachenko’s assessments and consider some of them excessively categorical. But something else is fundamentally important: professional arguments should be discussed on their merits, not replaced by an evaluation of the speaker’s personality.
The episode involving the interview of the developer, who effectively left the country under pressure of circumstances, showed just how painfully the very attempt at a public conversation about the state of the business climate in Russia is perceived today. In doing so, it proved telling not only for one specific figure, but for the entire business environment.
The question here is about the boundaries of acceptable professional discourse. About whether a person with experience of working within the system can speak openly about its problems — and not become an object of harassment as a result. Because a person cannot be harassed for speaking the truth, however unpleasant it may be.
