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© 2025 Freedom Degree
Freedom Degree, Inc. is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit organization. © 2025 | Powered by Strapi
Nov 30, 2024
Abandoning a phd program in Moscow and immigrating to France with no clear prospects, this story has a happy end nevertheless.
Abi Shukyurov was born in Bashkortostan into a family of migrants from Azerbaijan. Today, he lives in Paris, where he is a second-year PhD student in sociology at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales (EHESS) and works at the CERCEC research laboratory, which studies social processes in Russia, Ukraine, Belarus, Central Asia, and the Caucasus. At the same time, he is a visiting doctoral researcher at the French National Institute for Demographic Studies (INED) and also works in data journalism, focusing on demography.
But the road to this academic career turned out to be long and full of challenges.
Studies in Moscow and the Decision to Leave
Before emigrating, Abi was pursuing a doctoral degree at the Higher School of Economics in Moscow, writing his dissertation and preparing to teach in a master’s program. In the capital, he met Andrei, who is now his husband.
“My studies at the Higher School of Economics were only just beginning. I hadn’t yet contributed much, I wasn’t anywhere near the finish line.”
But in 2022, after the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, life changed abruptly.
For Abi and Andrei, the decision to emigrate was not easy but necessary.
“We had already planned to move to France, because Andrei wanted to apply for an undergraduate program in Brittany. Which he did. The war just accelerated the process.”
Personal safety became one of the main reasons for leaving urgently. Sexual orientation played a serious role: under growing repression, Abi no longer felt safe and realized there was a real threat of being drafted into the army. Mobilization only added pressure—his local military office began looking for him to send him into service. He was determined not to join the Russian army, especially during the war. His involvement in independent projects further increased the risk of persecution by the authorities.
Abi understood that emigration meant giving up everything he had built in Russia.
“If my academic career collapsed, it would mean starting all over abroad. I was ready for that.”
The Path of Emigration: Kazakhstan — Georgia — France
After deciding to leave, Abi and Andrei first went to Kazakhstan, then to Georgia. In Tbilisi, they reunited and began preparing documents for France.
The waiting period was nerve-racking and exhausting. Only after six weeks did they finally obtain French visas and leave for Europe.
First Months: Daily Struggles
The move to France did not bring instant relief. At first, Abi and Andrei lived in a small town in France, in the home of Andrei’s mother, who had moved there from Russia many years earlier.
“We stayed with Andrei’s mom. We had a tiny room, barely enough space for the two of us.”
The household was difficult: besides the cramped space, twelve dogs lived in the house.
“It wasn’t comfortable, sleeping on one bed. And there were so many dogs—twelve of them, because Andrei’s stepfather was a breeder.”
Still, despite these hardships, Abi recalls their support with gratitude:
“It’s not such a big deal—you get used to it. I’m grateful to Andrei’s mom and her husband for taking us in.”
One of the most serious problems was not knowing French.
“When I arrived in France, I didn’t know the language at all. I couldn’t put together even two or three words. I only knew ‘bonjour,’ ‘ça va,’ things like that.”
Realizing that without the language it was impossible to study or work, Abi immediately began looking for courses. He found free classes through local associations—a common form of support for migrants in France.
“You just pay a membership fee—about 15 euros a year—and you can attend unlimited French lessons.”
Classes were held twice a week in a neighboring town, a 25-minute train ride away. He also took part in courses organized by the French Memorial for Russian-speaking migrants. In addition, Abi studied online, watched educational videos, and practiced with locals. He notes that people in small French towns were patient and welcoming.
Psychological Strain
But the hardest part was not only the language barrier. Once his visa expired, Abi found himself in limbo.
“I arrived without a passport. My permitted stay in France was only two weeks. After that, I didn’t know what to do.”
Effectively, he was left without legal status.
“I was in that ‘illegal’ situation for quite a long time. It weighed heavily on me.”
The uncertainty and lack of information caused serious stress.
“You ask people for help, and they themselves don’t know what to do. We drank a lot back then, because it was unclear what would happen to us.”
Eventually, with the help of human rights organizations, Abi and Andrei managed to legalize their stay in France. In April 2023, they received political asylum, allowing them to live legally in the country.
Despite everyday challenges and lack of documents, Abi’s main focus remained his studies. He saw the French education system as his chance to integrate and build a new life.
“I thought—even if I had to start everything over, I could achieve something. It would be hard, but we would adapt.”
Programs for Scholars in Exile
Once in Paris, Abi and Andrei temporarily stayed with a researcher at Sciences Po. A casual conversation changed everything.
“We stayed with this researcher. She asked what I was doing. I said I was learning French and planning to apply for a PhD.”
She advised him to contact Alain Blum, a well-known French demographer specializing in the post-Soviet space.
“She suggested I reach out to him. I had read his work—he’s well-known in demography—but I wasn’t personally acquainted.”
That advice turned out to be crucial.
Abi found information about a special program for scholars in exile at EHESS and other French universities.
“I checked the website. It turned out they had a program supporting researchers forced to leave their country.”
He submitted his project proposal—and soon received a positive reply.
That’s how Abi became a PhD student at EHESS, one of France’s leading centers in the social sciences. Later he received support from the PAUSE program, a state initiative to help scholars affected by conflict and repression.
“The first step is when your university agrees to host and fund you. The second step is when the PAUSE commission reviews your application. Mine was approved.”
This support allowed him to focus fully on his studies and research.
The French Education System
Abi quickly discovered how different the French system was from what he knew in Russia. On the one hand, entry is relatively accessible—especially to public universities. On the other hand, studying is demanding and requires great independence.
“Getting into a French university isn’t too difficult, depending on the program. They admit a lot of people. But the real challenge is studying—it’s really tough.”
France follows the Bologna model: three years of undergraduate study, two years of master’s, then doctoral research. Students must not only attend classes but also constantly write essays, conduct research, and actively participate in seminars. Grades are tough: ten out of twenty is the minimum passing mark.
“It’s really hard to study here. High grades are rare. Ten points is just the pass threshold—if you get 12 or 13, you’ve already done well.”
In doctoral programs, the difference is even more striking: PhD candidates are largely on their own.
“Doctoral students are their own bosses. You can attend some classes, but the main task is to write your dissertation and meet your supervisor regularly.”
In his view, French universities focus less on memorizing theory and more on developing practical thinking—building arguments, writing well, and expressing ideas clearly in speech.
“French education is really about learning to write and to speak. Especially to write.”
Accessibility and Inequality
Education at public universities is mostly free: students pay only a registration fee of around €250–270 per year. For foreigners, it can be higher (up to €2,000 annually), but still far cheaper than in the UK or US.
At the same time, the system remains socially oriented, with scholarships, grants, and welfare benefits available.
Still, Abi notes that there is a divide within the system:
“There are ordinary universities, where admission is relatively easy. And then there are grandes écoles—elite institutions like Sciences Po or École Normale Supérieure. Admission there is difficult, and mostly the ‘elite’ study there.”
Future Plans and Advice to Others
Today, Abi is focused on completing his PhD dissertation at EHESS, but he is already thinking about the future. He sees two main paths ahead.
The first is continuing an academic career:
“Get a postdoc, teach at a university for a couple of years. Then establish myself at an institute and build a researcher’s career, maybe even become a ‘great demographer,’” he jokes.
The second is applying his knowledge in international analytics:
“Working in consulting or analysis for developing countries, for organizations like the World Bank—that would be great.”
He is also considering continuing his journalism and expert commentary, though only as a side pursuit:
“That’s the weakest option, since it pays little. If it’s for Russian media, the income is tiny. And I haven’t even started in French journalism.”
Abi emphasizes that his main goal is not just to stay in academia but to produce research that is genuinely useful.
Abi’s experience gave him a clear sense of what is important for successful adaptation. If he could advise himself three years ago—or another migrant just starting out—it would be:
1. Start learning the language immediately.
“I’d tell a fellow migrant in France to start learning French right away.”
2. Be ready for bureaucracy.
“Expect documents to take a very long time.”
3. Connect with locals.
“Don’t isolate yourself within the Russian-speaking community—it makes integration harder.”