The Warning Nobody Wanted to Hear
In 2017, the Västerås municipality issued a construction permit for an Orthodox church. Säpo objected — explicitly. The warning was ignored: a municipal official made paperwork errors, local communication broke down. These things happen.
Adjacent to the construction site sat Stockholm-Västerås Airport. In 2017, the airport was due for closure — no strategic value, no military relevance. In March 2024, Sweden joined NATO. The airport immediately acquired the status of a reserve military facility: the country’s third-longest runway, now embedded in Alliance military infrastructure. The church stands 300 meters from that runway.
The builders also erected a steeple 22 meters high. Local zoning rules near the airport allowed a maximum of 10. Who approved the exemption and how remains a question Swedish authorities are still trying to answer.
Rosatom Builds Churches
The construction was financed by Rosatom — Russia’s state nuclear corporation, which no one mistakes for a charitable foundation. This is neither an exception nor a surprise: ROC church construction abroad is routinely funded through state structures — Gazprom, Rosatom, state banks. Money from the state, a church facade, intelligence services inside — a Russian matryoshka doll, field-tested in dozens of countries.
A Consecration With Cossacks
November 2023. Eighteen months into Russia’s full-scale war on Ukraine. Metropolitan Anthony Sevryuk — head of the Moscow Patriarchate’s Department for External Church Relations — flew in personally for the consecration. The man responsible within the DECR system for precisely this kind of foreign engagement made the trip. In the room: Belarus’s ambassador to Sweden Mironchik, a Russian embassy adviser named Lyapin, and several Cossack atamans. Awards were presented.
This is, broadly speaking, a standard picture. ROC churches abroad have always functioned as part of a three-tier structure: embassy — Rossotrudnichestvo — church. When a metropolitan shows up, half the diplomatic corps tends to follow — that’s not coincidence, that’s protocol. But there’s peacetime protocol and there’s wartime protocol with Cossacks and classified awards.
Naryshkin’s Medal
Swedish journalists published a photograph of an SVR medal — “For Cooperation.” The order for its bestowal was signed by SVR Director Sergei Naryshkin on November 4, 2023 — the day of the consecration. Order number: 4023 PN. Recipient: parish priest Pavel Makarenko. Metropolitan Anthony, by all appearances, handed it over during the ceremony itself.
The photograph was published on the website of the World Russian People’s Council and subsequently deleted. A copy survived in the web archive. The DECR’s official report on the consecration mentioned only ecclesiastical awards — not a word about the SVR medal.
Dagens Nyheter’s verification team found no signs of photo manipulation. The parish offered an explanation: the images were published as a result of a cyberattack. As supporting evidence — a letter from the very same DECR. A watertight argument, clearly.
This Is Not a New Story
The DECR is not merely the church’s diplomatic arm. In 2023, the FBI sent formal warnings to Orthodox parishes across the United States: Russian intelligence services were conducting recruitment operations among clergy and parishioners. A document obtained by the Agentura.ru investigative outlet named a specific DECR employee — Dmitry Petrovsky — as a suspected undercover intelligence officer tasked with recruiting agents in American parishes. The document also described three parallel tracks: DECR cooperation with the SVR, the GRU, and the FSB simultaneously.
None of this, however, is new. In 1991, a parliamentary commission of the Russian Supreme Soviet opened part of the KGB archives: the entire senior leadership of the Russian Orthodox Church turned out to be KGB agents. The future Patriarch Alexis II — agent “Drozdov.” The current Patriarch Kirill — agent “Mikhailov.” In December 2002, Alexis II personally consecrated the Cathedral of Sophia the Wisdom of God — in the courtyard of the Lubyanka, inside the FSB headquarters complex. FSB Director Nikolai Patrushev stood beside him. The symbolism was complete.
The ROC has functioned in this capacity since 1943, when Stalin revived the institution of the church — under full intelligence-service control, with KGB-recruited agents filling the seats at the Local Council. Nothing fundamental has changed since. It has simply grown less modest about it.
The Ukrainian Context
In late 2024, Ukraine banned religious organizations affiliated with the Moscow Patriarchate. Western critics invoked freedom of religion.
Västerås offers a concrete answer to that criticism. Rosatom finances the construction. Naryshkin signs the orders. A DECR metropolitan presents an SVR medal. Belarus’s ambassador applauds. When questions arise — a letter from the same DECR and a story about hackers. This is not religion. It is a state intelligence operation with ecclesiastical cover, one that naive Swedish municipal officials simply chose not to look at too carefully in 2017.
Säpo is correcting that error now. Among those who will pay the price are Orthodox Swedes who contributed their own money on top of Moscow’s state financing — a standard feature of diaspora church construction when the goal is to create the appearance of a grassroots project. They did not know what they were part of. Now they do.
