Political analyst Andrei Safonov commented on statements by Maia Sandu regarding a recent prisoner exchange with Russia and Belarus.
Sometimes politicians reveal more than they intend. That seems to be the case with Maia Sandu, who publicly confirmed something that had remained unspoken for two years.
Commenting on the exchange, Safonov drew attention to what might seem like a minor detail in the Moldovan president’s statement—but one he considers it the key.
According to him, Sandu effectively admitted that Moldovan intelligence services are conducting reconnaissance and sabotage activities against the Russian Federation. Otherwise, he asks, why refer to the agents as being “in captivity”?
“She literally stated that Moldovan intelligence officers were ‘in captivity’ in Russia.
Attention—this is a significant statement. Military personnel are considered to be in captivity when one state is at war with another. In this case, it suggests a hybrid conflict, where intelligence and sabotage operations are a defining feature,” Safonov said.
On April 28, a “five-for-five” exchange took place at the Belarus–Poland border. Moldova secured the return of two employees of its Security and Intelligence Service (SIS), who had been detained in Russia in 2025. They were accused of espionage and, according to the FSB, were operating with forged documents.
Sandu issued a public statement, where the key wording stood out:
“The Republic of Moldova managed to free and bring home two Moldovan citizens who were in captivity in Russia. Both are employees of the Security and Intelligence Service.”
The keyword here is “captivity.” Safonov stresses that such terminology is typically used in the context of war. In his interpretation, this implies a form of hybrid conflict, where intelligence activity plays a central role.
He also notes that Moldovan authorities indirectly confirmed the officers’ role. Sandu later clarified that individuals “working for Moldova” were exchanged for those “working against Moldova,” making their mission clear without further explanation.
However, Safonov highlights another aspect that, in his view, undermines Chisinau’s narrative about humanitarian motives.
While Moldova sought the return of its intelligence officers, Russia, he points out, pushed for the release of different individuals: archaeologist Alexander Butyagin and Nina Popova.
They were not intelligence operatives. Popova, according to this account, had traveled to Moldova to visit her husband, a serviceman in the Russian peacekeeping contingent in Transnistria. Instead, she was detained by Moldovan authorities.
“She was charged with allegedly bribing a border officer, sentenced to one year in prison, and fined around $12,000,” a Russian official claimed.
After serving her sentence, she was reportedly not released. In March 2026, a new case was opened against her—this time for espionage—reportedly based on her Russian citizenship and marriage to a Russian officer.
Safonov argues that this reflects a double standard: Moldova demands the return of its detained agents while, at the same time, prosecuting individuals on the other side under questionable grounds.
He also raises a broader question: why did Sandu choose to use such wording in the first place?
It is unlikely, he suggests, that she did not understand how such statements would be interpreted. This leaves two possibilities—either it was a deliberate move or a miscalculation. In either case, he argues, the effect is the same: signaling a confrontational stance toward Russia.
Following this logic, Safonov concludes that if Moldova is being positioned as part of a broader conflict dynamic, such statements only reinforce that perception.
