From Estonian university professor to convicted Russian spy: the curious case of Viacheslav Morozov

Editor’s Note: Kyiv Independent News Editor Nate Ostiller briefly attended a summer program at the same Estonian university where the main character of this report was a professor and received a passing grade in a one-week summer school course.

A university professor is not the first profession that comes to mind as being a cover for a possible Russian spy. Why would someone spend decades obtaining degrees and rigorously work in academia just to establish an elaborate cover?

Viacheslav Morozov, a professor of political science at Estonia’s University of Tartu, was for years considered a quintessential "Russian liberal" in Western academia. By all accounts, he was a well-respected, diligent, and accomplished scholar.

His arrest by the Estonian Internal Security Service (ISS or Kapo) in January 2024 on suspicion of being a Russian spy, a charge that he was later convicted of and sentenced to six years in prison, came as a shock to some.

To others, it was the illustration of a long-standing suspicion that those publicly held liberal views were just a cover for another Russian imperialist —or even worse, a Russian agent.

Fears of Russian intelligence operations, while always lurking in the background, have increased since the beginning of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

Many high-profile Russia-linked espionage scandals have occurred since February 2022, often involving Western governments or intelligence agencies. Nonetheless, concerns about intelligence infiltration into Western academia have generally been less of a focus.

According to Kapo chief Margo Palloson, Morozov had been recruited by Russian intelligence officers while at Saint Petersburg State University and trained at a "military faculty," long before he moved to Estonia. Palloson added that Morozov had likely been a Russian asset for as long as 30 years and directly supplied information to Russia’s GRU military intelligence agency.

While Morozov was paid for his services, Palloson and State Prosecutor Taavi Pern said the sums were minimal and that he was primarily influenced by his Russian citizenship and a sense of patriotism.

While Morozov did not have access to state secrets, over the course of the 14 years spent in Estonia, he collected information about Estonian citizens and state security vulnerabilities. His handlers instructed him on which details to include, and he used his academic training to analyze the information.

In a written comment to the Kyiv Independent about the trial, a Kapo spokesperson said that the "evidence presented to Morozov (was) irrefutable."

"Reaching an agreement on the sentence in the settlement process shows that he was interested in reaching a verdict."

A spokesperson for the Harju County court confirmed to the Kyiv Independent that Morozov had pleaded guilty, but said more details could not be provided as the hearing was closed.

Inherent suspicion

At a university with a significant percentage of international students from Russia, as well as ethnic Russians from Estonia, Morozov taught about Russia’s role in the world from a postcolonial perspective. In a field that often leaned towards apologizing for Russia’s aggressive behavior or attempting to justify it, Morozov was straightforward in his characterization of Russia as a postcolonial nation.

He did not shy away from openly discussing how Russia should be viewed as a "subaltern empire," which has been guided by resentment toward the West and a desire to retain its imperialist sphere of influence over its neighbors.

In Estonia, a country that experienced first-hand the destructive legacy of Russian occupation, it was crucial for a Russian-born professor to be unabashed in his critical description of the larger neighbor next door. While it was unlikely that Morozov would have been hired to work at Tartu if he had displayed an openly pro-Russian position, such views are not necessarily uncommon in the Baltic states.

When Tatjana Zdanoka, an ethnic Russian and member of the European Parliament from Latvia, was the subject of a bombshell report that alleged she was a Russian agent, the reaction in Latvia was mostly a shrug. Zdanoka was known for her outspoken support of Russia and criticism of Latvia’s supposed discrimination of its Russian minority.

Latvians typically viewed Zdanoka as indicative of the imperialist Russian mindset many ethnic Russians in the Baltic states are suspected of harboring.

The professor-turned-spy, or the spy-turned-professor?

According to the university, Morozov ended his contract "at his own request" on Jan. 16, as the news about his questioned allegiance broke in the media. Later that day, Estonian authorities arrested him and detained him for two months, pending a trial that ended with him being sentenced in June.

Morozov's faculty page on the website was swiftly scrubbed of his academic career. A message was displayed that said that the university has "no reason to question the decisions of the Kapo."

Immediately after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Morozov denounced Russia's actions.

"There is no justification for Russia's aggression against Ukraine. My heart is with the people of Ukraine, and it is full of pain," he wrote in a Facebook post.

"I also call on everyone not to burn bridges unless there is absolutely no other choice. I see no way out of this terrible mess other than by winning the hearts and minds of those who are disoriented and deceived—for now," he added.

One week later, Morozov shared a post that stressed the importance of not demonizing all Russian academics. "Your ill-considered calls to ban Russian academics might just destroy the only opportunities we have to hear critical voices from Russia," the post read.

The university raised eyebrows in March 2022 by announcing it would no longer accept new Russian or Belarusian students.

The decision sparked an outcry at the university, where many students and staff of all nationalities claimed the ban amounted to discrimination based on nationality.

A public letter criticizing the move, which received more than 1,500 signatures, including from Morozov, was circulated. The backlash against the ban, in turn, triggered a response from Ukrainian students at Tartu, who said that not being able to attend a European university was nothing compared to what Ukrainians were going through.

Until the beginning of the full-scale invasion, Russians formed the largest single group of international students at the university. Ukrainians have since taken the lead, although according to university data, there were still 146 Russian students studying there in 2023.

Disbelief, betrayal, suspicion

Former students and colleagues of Morozov told the Kyiv Independent that the news was initially met with disbelief. How could it be possible that this professor, with such a well-known and respected perspective critical of Russia, turned out to be an intelligence operative?

Perhaps it was indicative of a creeping suspicion of Russians in the Baltic states that had only increased since the beginning of the full-scale war; that it could be part of a "witch hunt" by the Kapo.

Such feelings soon led to acceptance, as the Kapo has an exceptionally high conviction rate.

The Kapo is "run very professionally," said Ammon Cheskin, a professor at the University of Glasgow and a former colleague of Morozov's.

The news of Morozov's arrest was really tough because "he was one of the few scholars that I looked up to that much," Cheskin said, adding that he was initially in a state of disbelief.

Speaking to the Kyiv Independent a month after the scandal erupted, Cheskin said, "I have little optimism in this case…because I don't, I just don't believe that they would arrest someone on this crazy witch hunt."

Cheskin's initial reaction, shared by other colleagues, was that Morozov's arrest could have been a decision guided by emotion. The result of a lingering "Russophobic" resentment from decades of Soviet occupation. But as he processed the arrest over the following weeks, Cheskin began to think that he was "pretty convinced that they would only do this if they had clear evidence."

Next came betrayal and suspicion.

Radityo Dharmaputra, a PhD student at University of Tartu who formerly worked under Morozov said that he made it clear what his position on Russia and the full-scale war was but typically declined to discuss it publicly, even on after-work trips to the bar.

At the same time, Dharmaputra, who currently is a lecturer in international relations at Universitas Airlangga in his home country of Indonesia, said that he never had any reason to doubt Morozov's views or to wonder if the lack of candor was indicative of some disguised pro-Putin feelings. After all, Morozov’s academic career spoke for itself. There was an assumption that all faculty members were against the war. Having any other point of view would be untenable at Tartu.

Dharmputra said he was initially shocked, as he also admired Morozov as an academic. Dharmaputra emphasized that he is an outspoken supporter of Ukraine and had sought Morozov's advice on how to talk about Ukraine to the media in Indonesia.

When Morozov cautioned against it, instead saying it was better to focus on educating students, Dharmaputra thought this was more indicative of Morozov's dedication to being a pure academic who did not wade into politics, not a potential cause for suspicion.

Other former students of Morozov's told the Kyiv Independent that his generally dispassionate academic approach largely blunted any second thoughts they may have had about his hesitation to speak out about the war.

Morozov was always "straight to the point with as few words as possible," one former student said.

Sometimes his theoretical academic work was criticized for being overly "Russian apologetic," a former colleague from Estonia said, prompting Morozov to "exercise even greater caution in his public utterances."

Dharmaputra said that after he, too, began to accept that there was no reason to doubt the Kapo's allegations, the betrayal of trust increasingly turned into suspicion. What information might Morozov have shared about him? About others?

When asked if Morozov had ever asked any questions that seemed too political, personal, or prying, Dharmaputra said "no."

After a hesitation, he added, "But he didn’t need to. He read all the things that the students wrote."

During his tenure, Morozov taught hundreds, perhaps thousands of students, and supervised dozens of MA and PhD theses. Many international students were from Russia and likely would have considered Tartu a uniquely open place to freely speak their minds about politics compared to academia at home.

Through papers, research projects, and even comments in class, a professor could form a pretty good idea of a student's beliefs. Dharmaputra said this was what worried him most. What if, he asked, Morozov cataloged anti-Russian statements or beliefs from Russian or Belarusian students and then shared them with Russian intelligence agencies?

Prior to the full-scale invasion, some semblance of free expression was still possible in Russia, but this quickly changed after February 2022, when simply holding a blank paper in protest could land you in jail.

It is unknown if Morozov shared any information about his former students, and there is no evidence to date that any former or current students have been compromised.

Cheskin said another possibility was that Morozov could have identified foreign students (or Estonians), especially up-and-coming academics, who showed a positive disposition towards Russia and could potentially be "very useful for the Russian state, in the future or now."

Estonia has one of the highest percentages of Russians and Russian speakers in the EU.

Its robust Russian studies program and language courses attract students from all sorts of ideological backgrounds, including those deemed as "tankies" online (people in the West with far-left ideology considered to be apologists for the USSR or other "Communist" states).

Studying at Tartu offered the possibility to study at a well-regarded Western university within the EU and be as close to Russia as possible.

The fallout – ‘We were right all along’

Roughly 24% of Estonia’s population is ethnic Russian, and their place in Estonian society is complex, caught between an Estonian state determined to rid itself of any remnants of Soviet occupation and the need to protect minority rights.

As a percentage of its GDP, Estonia ranks first among total commitments to Ukraine.

Feelings about the war among the ethnic Russian population tell a different story. A poll released in October 2023 found that 77% of young Russian Estonians condemned the war, but the figure dropped to 48% in older generations. While only 15% of those 65-74 said they supported the war, another 36% said “I don’t know,” which experts said likely reflected a fear of being openly for the war instead of a genuine lack of opinion.

Some Russian faculty members are still teaching at Tartu, including Russian Estonians and Russian immigrants. According to Dharmaputra, one of Morozov’s former colleagues in the political science department is also Russian and was known for being even more stridently pro-Ukraine. The professor’s position was an emotional, visceral disgust for what Russia is doing in Ukraine, not couched in a desire to remain academic and detached.

“Estonians' historically pragmatic perspective of Russia remains largely unchanged; however, Morozov's colleagues feel the repercussions of his detention on a more personal level,” a professor at Tartu told the Kyiv Independent.

Nonetheless, the damage was done regardless of the eventual outcome of the Morozov case. A veil of suspicion, on top of what existed before, had been cast over all Russians. After Morozov’s position at the university had been terminated, his supervisees needed a new advisor.

Dharmaputra said that the professor had emailed him, offering to take over as an advisor. With a sense of guilt, he said he has not responded yet because he has trouble trusting him. He added that while he feels primarily for Ukrainians suffering the brunt of Russia’s aggression, Dharmaputra also acknowledged that this case may cause other Russian academics in Europe to be mistrusted.

Cheskin echoed the sentiment, saying his sympathy lies with Ukrainians. Still, he also worked for many years with Morozov and other Russian academics, including a consortium of partners at the University of Nizhny Novgorod (the collaboration was suspended after the beginning of the full-scale invasion).

“It's a horrible burden to be a Russian (academic) because either you support this horrible regime or you have to have some bravery and some sort of moral fiber to stand up against it,” Cheskin said.

Studying Russia is quite difficult these days, Cheskin said, with Western universities ending collaboration with their Russian counterparts and Western academics unable to conduct field research.

“You can only study things from a political level; you can only study the actions of the Russian state…(or) you can analyze the things that politicians officially say,” he said.

Understanding the true societal reasons why people support the war, or how they feel about it in general, is challenging even with the existence of some ostensibly independent polling.

While such surveys can provide a general overview and rough estimate of the level of support, Russians are “very guarded on their political opinions because they've lived in this…regime for a while now, and it's become progressively more authoritarian,” Cheskin said.

A former Estonian colleague of Morozov’s said the full-scale war has caused some reflection on the field of Russian studies and led to more positions being filled by Ukrainians. Russian or post-Soviet studies have been a catch-all field, often from a Moscow-centric point of view.

Academics have been working to change this, a process that has gained speed since the beginning of the full-scale war, but “de-colonizing” the field is not a simple step.

Insidious and Pervasive, but Unexpected?

Outside of academia and Morozov’s circle, news of his arrest was less shocking.

“I was surprised by the reaction of people who were shocked, and I thought they ought not to have been because they had a better understanding of how the adversary operates,” said Keir Giles, a senior consulting fellow at Chatham House’s Russia and Eurasia program.

There is a false notion that there is a one-size-fits-all description of a Russian intelligence operative. This misconception extends to their tasks, Giles told the Kyiv Independent.

Russian assets gather information and can do various other tasks that run a wide spectrum. While students likely do not have access to many classified secrets, the university has long been a place where those sympathetic to Russia (or other foreign powers) sought to cultivate like-minded individuals. This could include professors or students sympathetic to the cause and outright agents.

Such work does not necessarily have to be conspiratorial, involving the active implanting of ideas in the heads of young, impressionable students. It could simply be acting as a "talent spotter," said Giles, identifying those already receptive to Russian propaganda for future contact.

Palloson said that Morozov’s main target was not the university, but rather that he used his academic connections to collect information and identify possible other targets who could be recruited by Russian intelligence agencies.

While former students and colleagues of Morozov's told the Kyiv Independent that there was no indication he held any sympathies towards Russia, it does not mean that he may have simply kept his opinions to himself.

"Those people that are successfully concealing their sympathies are going to be more dangerous than the out-and-out obvious Russia sympathizers," Giles said.

Palloson concurred, saying that "Russian agents always hide their real sympathies."

Both Palloson and State Prosecutor Pern noted that Morozov’s collaboration with the GRU did not interfere with his academic work, and that his research and supervision of students is “still relevant today.”

Dharmaputra emphasized that this was one of the most remarkable, puzzling aspects of this case. “(Morozov) kept his (academic life) brilliantly separate…when you think about it, it means that he was a very good spy.”

“At least he was before he got arrested.”