Boris Kagarlitsky: Waiting for Russia’s spring
Russia’s political winter set in even before the outbreak of the armed conflict with Ukraine, which official documents euphemistically refer to as the “special military operation” (SMO). The COVID-19 pandemic in 2020 had already served as a pretext for sharply restricting freedom of assembly. This was followed by constitutional amendments that extended Russian President Vladimir Putin’s rule — already lasting for 20 years — by another anticipated 12 years, effectively making it lifelong. The pandemic also provided justification for changing election laws in ways that made monitoring voting and vote counting nearly impossible.
Nevertheless, in the fall of 2021, during the State Duma elections, voters in Moscow attempted to elect opposition candidates in most districts. Such a scandal in the capital was unacceptable. The problem was solved through remote electronic voting (REV). As soon as the REV results were added to the overall tally, opposition candidates (who had often been leading by impressive margins) were suddenly overtaken by ruling party candidates. The officially sanctioned parliamentary opposition, having resigned itself to this outcome, lost all political significance. These parties were no longer even perceived as a channel through which citizens could signal dissatisfaction with government policies.
This left only the non-systemic opposition, the most influential representative of which was Alexei Navalny. However, new repressive legislation swiftly destroyed the nationwide network of offices he had built. Their leaders were arrested or forced into exile. Navalny himself, having returned from Germany where he had been treated following a (suspected) poisoning attempt, was detained at the airport and died in custody on February 16, 2024. Recently, a Russian court ruled that even merely mentioning the name “Alexei” could be considered a sign of extremism.
As part of the broader crackdown on dissent, the infamous “foreign agents” law was enacted. Under this law, any Russian citizen deemed to be under foreign influence could be labeled a foreign agent without any judicial review. Those designated as foreign agents are barred from teaching at state universities, participating in electoral campaigns, and even have restrictions placed on earning income from creative work or renting out property. The law continues to be expanded with new prohibitions and restrictions.
Authorities actively pressured designated “foreign agents” to emigrate, while those who remained in Russia had to comply with numerous humiliating bureaucratic requirements under the threat of fines and, eventually, imprisonment. Additionally, a registry of terrorists and extremists was created, allowing any citizen to be included based on an administrative decision. Once listed, an individual not only loses access to their bank accounts but is also prohibited from conducting even cash transactions through banks without special permission.
Thus, even before Russian tanks rolled toward Kyiv on February 24, 2022, an extensive system of repressive measures had already been put in place, effectively freezing political life in the country. The armed conflict merely served as a pretext to further tighten the screws. Dozens of additional repressive laws were enacted or toughened. Estimates suggest the number of political prisoners ranges from 1000 to 3000, though there are reasons to believe these figures are significantly understated.
All Duma parties unanimously supported the government’s policies. Nevertheless, they too underwent systematic purges. Activists and politicians deemed unreliable were labelled as foreign agents (such as Oleg Shein from A Just Russia and Evgeny Stupin from the Communist Party of the Russian Federation). Such individuals were removed from party positions, excluded from electoral lists and forced out of the country. Many fell silent out of fear, but even that did not always guarantee safety.
A wave of purges swept through universities, leading to the dismissal of professors suspected of freethinking. Newspapers, journals and websites were shut down. Several unsuccessful attempts were made to block social media, but the state encountered technological obstacles. The mass exodus of people dissatisfied with the situation, along with the flight of young men evading mobilisation in the fall of 2022, seemed to have put an end to independent civic activity, turning the country into a political desert. At least, that is the impression one might get from a superficial glance, without paying attention to deeper processes that often escape the notice of casual observers.
The reality of Russians’ access to opposition online resources suggests a more complex picture. It is not just that critics of the regime are able to broadcast from abroad, much like the “enemy voices” that once infiltrated Soviet homes via radio waves. The ongoing struggle over the internet demonstrates a widespread grassroots resistance. Every time YouTube is slowed down, or another service or social network is blocked in Russia, countless tech-savvy individuals develop accelerators and software to bypass the restrictions, many of which are completely free.
The growing number of political prisoners also points to rising dissent. Moreover, their social and cultural profile has changed dramatically. Previously, a typical political prisoner was a young member of the intelligentsia, but today, more and more of those incarcerated are middle-aged, often less formally educated, and engaged in physical labour. Their political views differ significantly from those of the urban liberal opposition. For example, they tend to view the Soviet past far more positively, especially its social policies. In this sense, the protest movement is becoming more popular, more socially driven, and more leftist.
An important indicator of society’s readiness for change came in January 2024 with the campaign to nominate Boris Nadezhdin as a presidential candidate. The mere fact that he was allowed to collect signatures suggested that a faction within the ruling elite was at least concerned with maintaining the appearance of democratic procedures. Nadezhdin, despite his politically moderate stance, presented himself as an “anti-war candidate”. Yet the biggest surprise was the rapid nationwide growth of his campaign offices, which sprang up “like mushrooms after the rain,” with significant participation from various leftist groups. When Nadezhdin’s campaign gathered 300,000 signatures — far exceeding the required 100,000 — he was predictably disqualified from the race. However, this episode vividly demonstrated the presence of significant protest potential in the country.
While liberal exiles viewed Nadezhdin’s campaign with skepticism at best, leftist activists who remained in Russia largely supported it, albeit critically. It is also noteworthy that leftist online platforms, despite all the risks and challenges, strive to continue operating from within Russia. This often requires them to be more cautious in their criticism, but it ensures they remain connected to their audience. Even the few remaining liberal media outlets in Russia have been forced to rely on leftist journalists and commentators.
After Navalny’s death, the exile opposition was plagued by numerous scandals and conflicts. Of course, not all members of the liberal emigration took part in these disputes. For example, Vladimir Kara-Murza, who had spent significant time in prison and was released in August 2024 as part of a prisoner exchange between Russia and the West, focused all his efforts on supporting political prisoners still in Russia. However, the overall atmosphere within the exile community did little to enhance its credibility.
In contrast, activists who remained in Russia, along with groups abroad that maintained connections with them, fostered an environment of solidarity and mutual aid. Supporting political prisoners became a key focus of their activities. People raise funds, send care packages, and write thousands of letters to express solidarity with those behind bars. The experience of fundraising for prisoners has demonstrated the emergence of a self-sustaining culture — one that operates without foreign grants, oligarch subsidies or state support.
As an early conclusion, we can observe that underlying processes are reshaping the balance of power in society. When the next political spring begins, the landscape revealed beneath the melting ice will be significantly different from what existed before the freeze.
But do we have reason to hope for a spring — let alone expect one soon? It seems that we do.
The rise of authoritarianism in the 2020s was neither accidental nor the result of the ill will of security service veterans who had seized key positions in the state. On the contrary, the escalation of the conflict with Ukraine and the march on Kyiv in 2022 were largely driven not only by international tensions but also by internal contradictions. The expectation was that a “small victorious war” would consolidate society, much like the annexation of Crimea had in 2014. But whereas that victory was swift and bloodless, events this time unfolded quite differently. Not only did the war fail to resolve any of Russia’s existing problems, it created new ones. The conflict allowed the government to indefinitely postpone long-overdue reforms, but contradictions and tensions only accumulated, including within the ruling elite.
Many, of course, profited from the war in Ukraine and military contracts, but the civilian sectors of the economy suffered. At the same time, the prospect of an imminent peace settlement brings serious new challenges. The Russian economy has not collapsed under sanctions and even shows noticeable growth, but it has become increasingly contradictory. The reduction of ties with the West has not led to a consistent reorientation toward BRICS [Brazil-Russia-India-China-South Africa] trade partners. This became especially evident when China and India cut back on Russian oil purchases — highlighting the fact that, beyond raw material exports, Russian companies have little to offer global markets.
Meanwhile, socially significant sectors are shrinking rapidly and military spending has become the primary driver of economic growth. However, sustaining this level of defense expenditure after a ceasefire will be difficult — not only financially, but politically. The battle against inflation has relied on raising the central bank’s key interest rate, making credit inaccessible to much of the business sector and stifling non-military demand. It is increasingly clear that a transition to peaceful development will require a huge redistribution of resources and a change in priorities and approaches, which is impossible without a radical transformation of decision-making processes — meaning that political change is inevitable.
Even a significant part of the ruling elite is beginning to grasp this reality. The majority of both society and the dominant class may dream of returning to the “happy” days of 2019, but unfortunately, that is impossible — due to the shifting geopolitical landscape in the Trump era, economic challenges, and the deep fatigue that has accumulated across all layers of society after Putin’s “long rule”. Taken together, these factors make change not only overdue but inevitable.
While peace agreements may reduce global tensions, they do not resolve Russia’s internal problems; on the contrary, they exacerbate them (one of the reasons why the peace process itself is so fraught with difficulties). Change is coming — the only question is whose interests will shape it and on what principles new priorities will be formulated.
Social and economic contradictions demand political solutions. The repressive campaign of 2020–24 only managed to temporarily freeze the situation, but in doing so, it also created new conditions that will inevitably influence future developments. As the well-known leftist blogger Konstantin Syomin remarked in 2023, applications for participation in political life are now submitted through the penitentiary system. Neither the liberal exiles nor the current bureaucrats will be capable of formulating new ideas for the country’s development — both remain trapped in the past.
If change begins, society itself will put forward new leaders. Some of them are currently sitting in trenches in Ukraine, others are working to sustain local initiatives or preserve the remnants of independent media. Today’s political prisoners may find themselves at the forefront of efforts to build new social institutions and clean out the Augean stables of accumulated problems. They are prepared to work toward transforming their country and the world.
But for now, they need support and solidarity above all else. From there, events will take their natural course.
How this unfolds is well known from Russian history.
This article was sent by Russian anti-war socialist and political prisoner Boris Kagarlitsky on February 18 from the penal colony in Torzhok, Russia, where he is serving a five-year sentence for “justification of terrorism.” Translation by Dmitry Pozhidaev for LINKS International Journal of Socialist Renewal.