BBC’s Steve Rosenberg Chronicles Moscow’s Press Peril

For Steve Rosenberg, the last BBC correspondent left in Russia, daily life is a balancing act between truth-telling and survival. As the only Western journalist from the BBC still reporting from Moscow in early 2026, Rosenberg’s experiences have been brought to the fore in his recently released documentary, Our Man in Moscow. The film, which premiered in early February 2026, offers an unflinching look at the realities of reporting under the Kremlin’s watchful eye and the psychological toll exacted by such an environment.

According to BBC, Rosenberg’s work is nothing short of a revolutionary act. In today’s Russia, dissent is often equated with treason, and even uttering the word “war” is considered taboo. The country’s descent into totalitarianism has made the job of a foreign correspondent not just difficult, but dangerous. Rosenberg’s documentary chronicles a year inside the BBC’s Moscow bureau, revealing a world where every word is scrutinized and every report could lead to trouble with the authorities.

The Times, in its review published on February 2, 2026, described Rosenberg’s daily routine as “an exercise in turbo diplomacy and journalistic dexterity — informing us yet not getting into trouble with the Kremlin.” This delicate dance is at the heart of Our Man in Moscow, as Rosenberg navigates the treacherous waters of state censorship, propaganda, and open hostility from Russian officials. His role demands not only the highest standards of journalism but also a keen sense of self-preservation.

The documentary does not shy away from showcasing the overt hostility faced by Western journalists in Russia. One of the most prominent examples is the public attacks Rosenberg has endured from Vladimir Solovyov, a leading Kremlin propagandist. Solovyov has disparaged Rosenberg with derogatory remarks on national television, casting him as an enemy in Russia’s ongoing information war with the West. Such attacks are not mere rhetorical flourishes; they are part of a broader campaign to discredit and intimidate foreign reporters, making their work all the more perilous.

In one particularly striking moment, Rosenberg is shown reflecting on the psychological burden of his assignment. Isolated from the broader community of foreign journalists—many of whom have left Russia due to increasing repression—he relies on what he calls his “holy trinity”: his wife, his dog, and his piano. These sources of comfort offer him a lifeline amid the relentless pressures of his job. His piano performances, often shared on social media, have gone viral, blending uplifting melodies with poignant themes that resonate far beyond Russia’s borders. They serve not only as a form of personal solace but also as a subtle act of resistance, a reminder of the enduring power of art and humanity in dark times.

The environment Rosenberg describes is one where even the most basic acts of journalism can carry severe consequences. The documentary captures the constant threat of censorship and vilification, painting a picture of a society where the truth is not just inconvenient but actively suppressed. As Rosenberg notes, “Reporting under such conditions today is akin to a revolutionary act that may lead to imprisonment.” In this context, every interview conducted, every story published, becomes a calculated risk.

Despite these challenges, Rosenberg remains resolute. His reporting serves as a vital connection between Russia and the outside world, offering a rare window into a society increasingly closed off by government control. The documentary positions him as a beacon of hope, embodying the spirit of resilient journalism under unfathomable pressure and hostility. As he plays his piano in a quiet Moscow room, Rosenberg captures the essence of an era waning under the weight of authoritarianism. His efforts remind us of the importance of truth in a world increasingly enveloped in darkness.

The release of Our Man in Moscow comes at a time when the Russian government has tightened its grip on information more than ever before. According to BBC, the act of reporting itself has become fraught with danger, as journalists are routinely accused of spreading “fake news” or acting as foreign agents. The documentary illustrates how Rosenberg and his colleagues must constantly weigh the risks of their work against the imperative to inform the public. It’s a precarious existence, one that requires both courage and ingenuity.

One of the documentary’s most compelling aspects is its exploration of the personal cost of such work. Rosenberg’s isolation is palpable, and the psychological toll is evident. Yet, he finds ways to cope, drawing strength from his family and his music. His viral piano performances have become a symbol of resilience, offering hope not just to himself but to countless others who find themselves navigating similarly hostile environments.

The reception of Our Man in Moscow has been overwhelmingly positive, with critics praising its unvarnished portrayal of life under repression. The Times called it “a riveting hour with BBC’s Russia correspondent,” highlighting the film’s ability to capture both the dangers and the small moments of humanity that persist even in the bleakest circumstances. The documentary stands as a testament to the enduring value of independent journalism, especially in times of crisis.

As Russia continues its crackdown on dissent, the role of journalists like Rosenberg becomes ever more critical. Their work ensures that the world remains aware of the realities unfolding within Russia’s borders, countering the state’s efforts to control the narrative. In an era where propaganda and misinformation are wielded as weapons, the truth has never been more precious—or more endangered.

Looking ahead, the future for foreign correspondents in Russia remains uncertain. The risks are real, and the pressures immense. Yet, as Our Man in Moscow so powerfully demonstrates, the commitment to truth endures. Rosenberg’s story is not just about one man’s struggle against the odds; it’s about the broader fight for press freedom in an age of growing authoritarianism.

As the credits roll on Our Man in Moscow, viewers are left with a profound sense of admiration for those who continue to speak truth to power, no matter the cost. In a world where darkness often seems to be closing in, Rosenberg’s music—and his journalism—shine as a reminder that hope, however fragile, still persists.