For nearly three years, I have followed the Feenstra family of Canada as they settled into their new life on a farm in the Nizhny Novgorod region of Russia. From a frighteningly rocky start to unexpected social media stardom, they have worked hard, followed the rules, and built a comfortable life for themselves in the most unlikely place they could have chosen to relocate.

But when they arrived in early 2024, the territory of Russia had not yet been touched by Vladimir Putin’s “special military operation” in Ukraine. Since then, things have changed drastically, and at a greatly accelerated pace.

Last November, when Putin signed into law Executive Decree No. 821, “About temporary procedure for acceptance in citizenship of the Russian Federation and issue of the residence permit in the Russian Federation,” Arend Feenstra released a YouTube video in which he and his Russian immigration attorney discussed what the decree might mean to him, his family, and others like them.

He was clearly concerned, as he should have been. I posted an article expressing my thoughts on the matter (reprinted below) on November 17, 2025, but then heard nothing more about it as the entire Feenstra clan took off for an extended visit back home to Canada and the U.S., followed by a couple of weeks in Crimea.

Still, I worried. And yesterday, my fears were realized when a new YouTube video appeared in which Arend Feenstra openly expressed his worries about the future.

As though understanding for the first time how the ongoing war in Ukraine, and specifically Executive Decree 821, might throw a monkey wrench into his family’s plans for their entire future, he interrupted a tour of his farm’s grazing pastures with a comment that “I really hope we can stay here.”

To my great surprise, he continued . . . first saying that he still believes in Russia, and that their decision to move there had been the right one. But the man who has spent the last couple of years proselytizing for Putin’s “family values” immigration program now admits that he has stopped encouraging people to come there, at least for the time being.

According to Feenstra, there is “no path forward” any longer; there used to be, but “they keep changing things.” And the biggest change is the requirement of Decree 821 that, in order to attain temporary residency (which he and his family already have), or to advance from temporary to permanent residency (for which they would normally be eligible in about a year and a half), he — and presumably his 17-year-old son Wesley — would have to sign a contract with the military.

The problem is that no one seems to know what that contract would entail, and whether it is permanent or only effective until the end of the war in Ukraine. His attorney is trying to get clarification from the authorities, but without luck so far.

Thus, they feel as though they are stuck in limbo.

In the meantime, the family — having sold their farm in Canada in order to be able to afford the move — are heavily invested in their new home. They built — mostly with their own hands — a lovely house, barns and other outbuildings, purchased machinery and equipment, and lived on their savings while waiting for the farm to begin to show a profit . . . which he says is just around the corner.

But, assuming they stay, how do they know whether the government will move the goal posts yet again? Will he — and/or young Wes — be required to leave the farm for a year or more to serve in the military? If so, what will happen to the farm during that time? And even if they manage to fulfill the legal obligations, and survive their military service, will the rules for obtaining permanent residency, and ultimately full citizenship, be changed yet again?

On the other hand, if they were to decide to leave, how much of their investment — if any — would they be able to recoup? (My guess would be very little, since the land itself does not belong to them.)

This is obviously more than a conundrum — it is a life-changing crisis for ten people who were promised a peaceful, secure life doing the work they love. They have followed all of the proper procedures, and have done everything right. Their mistake was in not taking into account the nature of the person making the promises.

Arend Feenstra says he continues to “hope something will change.” I’d say there’s a very good chance that it will . . . but the question is: Will it be a change for the better?

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
9/26/26

***

RE-POST

11/17/25: A Cloud on the Feenstra Horizon?

Obviously, no one can accurately foretell the future. But we can think ahead to the most likely possibilities . . . and in the case of young Wesley (“Wes”) Feenstra — the 16-year-old Canadian living with his parents and seven siblings on their farm in the Nizhny Novgorod region of Russia — there are some big “ifs” to be considered.

Because on November 5th, Vladimir Putin signed into law Decree No. 821: “Executive Order On the Temporary Procedure for Granting Citizenship of the Russian Federation and Issuing Residence Permits in the Russian Federation.”

And no one seems sure exactly what it means, to whom it applies, what is meant by “temporary,” or whether it was intentionally left ambiguous or was the result of hasty, sloppy drafting. But one thing is clear: It involves military service as a prerequisite to obtaining Russian citizenship or permanent residency.

And Wesley’s dad, Arend Feenstra, is understandably concerned, both for himself and his sons.

The Feenstras — Arend, Anneesa, and eight of their nine children — moved from Canada to the Nizhny Novgorod region of Russia nearly two years ago, to build a farm and a new life away from the perceived “wokeness” of their native country in a place they thought would be better suited to their conservative beliefs. After a rough start, things began to fall into place for them, and they have been doing surprisingly well, with a great deal of hard work and an abundance of social media promotion for Putin’s immigration drive.

About a year ago, they obtained temporary residence status, meaning that in another three years’ time, they would be eligible to apply for permanent residency. With two years still to go, that would bring young Wes to his 18th birthday — the age of eligibility for military service.

And the new Decree No. 821 states that :

“ . . . [in order] to obtain Russian citizenship and a residence permit in Russia, certain categories of capable men aged 18 to 65 must now provide one of two documents:

– A discharge certificate from military service in the Russian Armed Forces or the Russian Ministry of Emergency Situations.

– A certificate confirming unfitness for military service.

[Eng.confidencegroup.ru, November 10, 2025.]

Without either of those, they would be required to serve at least a year in the military.

A clear exception is made for citizens of the Republic of Belarus. Not clear, however, is what other exceptions or requirements may exist under 821.

Nor does the decree specify what is meant by a “Temporary Procedure for Granting Citizenship.” Is it intended to be effective only for the duration of the “special military operation” in Ukraine? Or is it open-ended?

Certainly, Arend Feenstra needed answers. So he called upon Timur Beslangurov, a leading Russian expert on immigration law, who appeared with Feenstra on social media. And after watching the broadcast twice, all I was able to discern were a lot of “ifs” and “maybes” and an occasional “probably.”

For example: Beslangurov “hopes” the unclear portions of the decree will be amended; said that “supposedly” they won’t take anyone who doesn’t speak Russian; and “believes” the decree is intended to apply primarily to citizens of the Central Asian “Stans,” of whom there are millions in Russia.

He also spoke of a pending decree on immigrants who came to Russia because of “shared values” — as did the Feenstras — and said that, in any event, their family was “probably” all right for at least the next two years, when their temporary residency permits expire.

*. *. *

Throughout Beslangurov’s attempt to allay everyone’s fears, Arend Feenstra appeared uncharacteristically serious and increasingly concerned . . . as well he might. But he managed to close the broadcast with his customary promotion of life in Russia, saying it’s still a “really good place” with a “pile of opportunities.” He said he continues to feel that immigrants are welcome there, that it is a safe place to be, and that a “traditional value” visa is the best way to go.

But his customary enthusiasm was missing, and it was obvious to me, after observing this family for nearly two years, that Arend Feenstra has suddenly been hit with one of the realities of life in Putin’s Russia: the unpredictability and capriciousness of the government.

So he now faces the possibility of military conscription for himself and/or his eldest son . . . or alternatively, losing all of the money and hard work they have invested in their thriving new farm and having to start over again, back in Canada or elsewhere.

And that is truly an overwhelming prospect.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
11/17/25