From March 1, 2026, Russian scholars have been barred from cooperating with foreign colleagues without approval from the FSB. Historian Rustam Aleksander argues that the measure effectively creates a selective version of an Iron Curtain for part of the academic community and revives Soviet methods of controlling international contacts.
As an example, he cites the case of physicist Vsevolod Gantmakher. In 1969, the 34-year-old scientist applied to join a Soviet delegation traveling to a conference in East Germany. Although the trip was classified as so-called scientific tourism and participants had to cover their own costs, the final decision still rested with officials. By then, Gantmakher already held a doctorate in physics and mathematics, had received the Lenin Komsomol Prize, and had previously traveled abroad.
He filled out a lengthy questionnaire, received approval from his institute, the Presidium of the USSR Academy of Sciences, the local party secretary, and the regional Communist Party committee, and also passed a medical examination. The day before departure, he was summoned to the Academy Presidium to pay for the trip, collect his foreign passport with an exit visa, and attend a briefing. Instead, he was told that his application had been rejected. Aleksander writes that Gantmakher had come with his wife, and after the refusal they spent the money saved for the trip on their first television set in a Moscow store.
Even during the relative thaw under Nikita Khrushchev, travel abroad remained a privilege. The authorities and security services feared both the leakage of secret information and exposure to what they saw as undesirable ideas, even while recognizing the practical value of ties with Western researchers for learning about new discoveries and technologies.
Permission depended on several factors: the scholar’s field of research, the level of secrecy involved, and political reliability, including party membership. Restrictions were especially severe for scientists linked to military work. The author notes that rocket fuel researcher Georgy Manelis was routinely screened by the KGB before any contact with foreign colleagues.
The approval process required endorsement by the Presidium of the USSR Academy of Sciences and submission of an autobiography, trip program, medical certificate, and a supervisor’s reference describing not only scientific work but also the employee’s moral character. The documents were then sent to the regional party committee, while additional party and operational checks were carried out without the scientist’s knowledge. The final stage was an interview with officials and KGB officers who assessed whether the candidate was sufficiently “politically mature” and “morally stable.”
“The whole procedure was disgusting. What gave those old men, who had seen Lenin alive, the right to lecture me? I am going to Poland to do science, not to promote Soviet power!”
One scientist, identified as Yefimov, who planned to travel to Poland in the mid-1970s, refused to undergo a second interview after an insulting first one and never made the trip. Aleksander argues that the new FSB approval requirement may prove not only humiliating but also potentially dangerous for Russian researchers, and that the prospect of such oversight could push many of them to give up international cooperation.