Between 19 March and the end of April 2026, the Russian domestic picture showed a concentration of signs that are difficult to reduce to isolated episodes.
The period saw intertwined political repression, network control, militarisation of educational institutions, economic difficulties, opaque management of regional crises and the first signs of irritation even in non-traditionally oppositional sectors of society.

This is not a single crisis, but a sum of pressures touching different areas: everyday communication, school, university, family economy, historical memory, media work, the relationship between centre and regions.

Political repression and control of historical memory

One of the most illustrative cases opened on 19 March with the admission of pro-Kremlin blogger Il’ja Remeslo to the Skvorcova-Stepanova psychiatric hospital in St. Petersburg, after a series of posts in which he had criticised Putin and the SVO, i.e. the special ‘naja voennaja operacija [special military operation, the official Russian formula for war against Ukraine]. The facility is known for its Soviet past linked to punitive psychiatry: dissident Aleksandr Skobov, who had been diagnosed with so-called ‘slow-course schizophrenia’, was also interned there.
The fact that it was not a classical liberal opponent, but a figure from the pro-Kremlin area, who was punished, gave the case a special value: the field of punishable dissent seems to extend even to those who, although starting from loyalist or nationalist positions, cross certain thresholds of criticism.

In the same period of weeks, pressure on the structures of historical memory and civil society continued. On 9 April, the Supreme Court recognised Memorial as an extremist organisation, banning the activities of the Meždunarodnoe obščestvennoe dviženie ‘Memorial’ [International Public Movement ‘Memorial’] and its regional structures in Russia. The hearing took place behind closed doors, with an ‘absolutely secret’ classification. The legal wording, according to Memorial, is vague and could allow the prosecution of persons or initiatives even indirectly connected to the organisation. The decision had a strong symbolic following: in Tomsk, the Skver Pamjati [Garden of Remembrance] at the NKVD Museum, a memorial complex dedicated to the victims of political repression and inaugurated in 1992, was demolished.

In Moscow, too, the relationship with Soviet memory has been reoriented. In the building of the former GULag Museum of History, closed since November 2024, the exhibition has been completely dismantled. In its place, it is planned to open a museum dedicated to the ‘genocide of the Soviet people’ and the crimes of the Nazis. The move is significant not because it formally erases the theme of the victims, but because it shifts the axis of memory from internal state terror to Soviet suffering caused by the external enemy. At the same time, Putin restored the name of Feliks Dzeržinsky, founder of the VČK [Extraordinary Pan-Russian Commission], the original organ of Bolshevik political terror, to the FSB Academy.

Cultural censorship and control over information

Control over culture and publishing also manifested itself in the Ėksmo case, Russia’s largest publishing house. The managing director Evgenij Kap’ev was detained as part of proceedings in connection with the publication and dissemination of books with LGBT themes, in particular novels such as ‘Summer with a Pioneer’s Tie’ and ‘What the Swallow is Silent About’. The case relates to previous pressures on Popcorn Books and Individuum, which culminated in the announcement of Popcorn Books’ closure in January 2026. According to some sources, the interest of the authorities may concern not only the suppression of content considered to be banned, but also the control of the assets of Russia’s largest publishing group. Therefore, the pressure on the cultural chain does not only concern authors and individual texts, but publishers, warehouses, bookshops, platforms and audio-books.

Alongside cultural repression, control over judicial information has been tightened. The Judicial Department at the Supreme Court stopped publishing conviction statistics and removed available data from the site from 2005. These statistics were used by journalists and human rights defenders to track the trend of convictions for individual articles, types of sentences, and profiles of convicted persons. The latest available report, covering the first half of 2025, already recorded the growth in cases of state treason and espionage, as well as the increase in military personnel convicted of murder. The closure of this data reduces the public instruments to measure repression. In parallel, Reporters sans frontières ranked Russia 172nd in the world press freedom ranking 2026.

Digital censorship and its consequences

The second major front is the digital front. On 20 March, major interruptions in the functioning of Telegram were recorded in Russia. According to OONI Explorer, the outage rate rose to 64.4 per cent, up from 18.2 per cent the previous day. In the following days, the blocking was strengthened to around 80 per cent, while problems with access to WhatsApp and Signal also increased. According to analysts, Telegram traffic in Russia dropped by 10-18% in March and overall views of Russian channels fell by 17%.

The restrictions produced significant side effects. There was a large-scale breakdown in the functioning of Russian banks, with problems in payments, transfers, ATMs and online applications of Sberbank, VTB, T-Bank and Ozon Bank. According to Forbes and several Telegram channels, the breakdown may have been caused by Roskomnadzor’s actions, in particular the blocking of IP addresses used in the banking infrastructure. Roskomnadzor then ordered the media and public channels to remove materials linking the banking failure to the blockages. The case showed the fragility of a system where digital censorship measures can interfere with essential services.

Meanwhile, the government discussed new measures against VPNs.
The Mincifry [Ministry of Digital Development, Communications and Mass Media] proposed to the major Russian platforms – including Sberbank, Jandeks [Yandex], VK, Ozon, Wildberries and Avito – to help identify and restrict VPNs on Roskomnadzor’s ‘black list’.

At the same time, a ‘white list’ of VPNs complying with state requirements was discussed. Marketplaces began to restrict the operation of services when the VPN is active: in some cases, users could not view the assortment or complete orders. Digital censorship thus shifted from the strictly political level to that of commercial and everyday life.

On 23 April, Putin commented publicly for the first time on the Internet shutdowns after the March shutdown in Moscow.
In a meeting with the government, he described the disruptions as ‘failures’, but said that the priority remains security, ‘even when this means restrictions on communications’. He acknowledged the inconveniences for citizens, but added that if the shutdowns are related to preventing terrorist attacks, they will continue.

Digital control has also extended to the physical borders. Russian border guards have obtained the right to inspect electronic devices such as phones, tablets and laptops. Refusal to hand over the device can result in a fine or up to fifteen days of administrative arrest. The jurists point out that the law allows the inspection of the device as an object, but does not oblige to disclose passwords or unlock the contents. In practice, however, crossing the border with a personal phone becomes an increasing risk.

Militarisation of society and schools

At MGTU Ba uman [Moscow State Technical University named after Bauman] a compulsory visit to the Competence Centre for Unmanned Aeronautical Systems was introduced as a condition for admission to the thesis discussion.
The measure affects all male students, regardless of the topic of the final paper.
At the Ciuvasia State University, students with educational debts were pressurised into joining the unmanned systems troops, with promises of payment, cancellation of academic debts and a guaranteed future. Jurists have warned that such contracts may in fact be open-ended.

The Ministry of Defence confirmed in a reply to jurist Artëm Klyga, of the Dviženie soznatel’nych otkazčikov [Movement of Conscientious Objectors], that formally one-year contracts may not end after one year, because the discharge depends on the commanders and a secret decree by Putin in August 2023 that allows the contract to be terminated only in ‘exceptional cases’.
Subsequently, the Minobrnauki [Ministry of Science and Higher Education] prepared a provision according to which universities should forward the lists of expelled students to the conscription offices and allocate the vacated places to participants in the war in Ukraine. According to various estimates, the authorities aim to attract tens of thousands of students to contract service.

Militarisation also affects childhood. According to the Vot Tak project, at least 153 museums dedicated to SVO have been opened in Russia and the occupied territories; about 60 per cent are located in institutions for children and young people, including schools, colleges, creativity houses, orphanages and even kindergartens. In some pre-school facilities, children are shown photographs of war participants and told their stories. In other cases, in handicraft classes, schoolchildren are involved in the production of camouflage nets, trench candles, bags, camouflage elements and drone accessories for the army. The documentary ‘Mister Nobody against Putin’ by Pavel Talankin, banned in Russia and later broadcast by the BBC Russian Service, made visible this transformation of the school into an instrument of military propaganda.

To the militarisation of education is added the militarisation of civil infrastructure. Putin signed a law allowing private security organisations set up in strategic enterprises, state companies and natural monopolies to use automatic weapons to protect critical infrastructure, including against drone attacks. In the Leningrad region it is planned to create ‘mobile firing groups’ also composed of reservists, mainly with experience in the war against Ukraine, to be placed at critical enterprises and infrastructure. In the Belgorod region, foodstuffs and mail are delivered to border districts by armoured vehicles equipped with radio-electronic warfare systems.

Economic and regional crises

The fourth front is economic and regional. Between 19 and 20 March, the mass slaughter of cattle resumed in the Novosibirsk region. In the village of Koziča, police officers and veterinary services entered the Vodolèj farm and began the destruction of the animals, despite having been promised time to carry out analyses. There were about 600 cows and 200 sheep on the farm. The authorities spoke of rabies and pasteurellosis, while other sources suggested foot-and-mouth disease, a diagnosis that would lead to more serious economic consequences and restrictions on the export of livestock products.

The farmers complained of insufficient compensation, pressure and lack of clear documentation. Damage was estimated at over 1.5 billion roubles, with compensation around 173 roubles per kilogram live weight. In the village of Koziča, all livestock were eventually destroyed. In the village of Novoključi, after the culls, carcasses remained on the ground, undisposed of, with fears of soil and groundwater contamination. In the background, an investigation by the Naval’nyj team reported that officials from the Ministry of Agriculture, including Minister Oksana Lut, allegedly flew at least 61 times on private jets to destinations such as Nice, the Maldives, the United Arab Emirates and European capitals.

Other economic indicators also point to increasing pressure.
Lukoil reported a net loss of 1.06 trillion roubles for 2025 according to MSFO [International Financial Reporting Standards; IFRS], compared to a profit of 851.5 billion the previous year. Russia’s federal budget deficit in the first quarter of 2026 reached about 4.6 trillion roubles, already exceeding the full-year plan by 20%. Oil and gas revenues fell by almost 45%, while spending increased by 17% year-on-year.
The Central Bank lowered the key rate to 14.5%, but inflation remains high and the room for manoeuvre constrained by war spending.

The material crisis can also be seen in prices and environmental disasters. According to a study by the Ceny segodnja [Prices Today] project, kuliči [traditional Easter sweets] have increased in price by about a third in two years. In Krasnodar Territory, the authorities announced the reopening of the beaches of Anapa after the mazut spill on 15 December 2024, when the oil tankers Volgoneft’ -212 and Volgoneft’-239 spilled some 9,200 tonnes of fuel into the Black Sea. However, as the clean-up was announced, new oil slicks were spotted off the coast, and a voluntary rehabilitation centre housed more than a hundred mazut-covered birds.

Signs of discontent and cracks in consensus

The unease is also reflected in the polls. At the end of April, Putin’s rating was down for the seventh week in a row according to VCIOM: approval of his activities dropped to 65.6%, while confidence stood at 71%, down about ten points since the beginning of the year.

The FOM and Levada-Centr also register similar dynamics: anxiety, irritation and fear grow, and the share of those who assess the country’s performance negatively increases. Factors of discontent include inflation, taxes, deterioration of everyday life and, above all, Internet blockades.

Edinaja Rossija [United Russia] falls below 30 per cent in some surveys, while the KPRF attempts to intercept the discontent by presenting a bill on ‘guarantees of citizens’ digital rights’.

The Bonja case showed that unease can emerge even from non-oppositional circles. On 14 April, blogger and former Dom-2 participant Viktorija Bonja published a nineteen-minute video appeal to Putin, claiming to speak ‘on behalf of the people’.
While presenting herself as a patriot and supporter of the president, she claimed that Putin would not receive real information about the country and said: ‘The people are afraid of you’. She listed price rises, flooding in Dagestan, mazut spills in Anapa, cattle slaughter in Novosibirsk, and Internet blockades. The video has exceeded twenty-two million views.

After Bonja, the blogger Ajza also posted a critical video, asking ‘how much money you have to steal for it to be enough’ and talking about inequality, digital blockades, environmental catastrophes and social difficulties. Shortly afterwards, the video was deleted.
According to a source in Meduza, a request came from the presidential administration to the loyal media not to develop the topic.

Bonja was then harshly attacked by Vladimir Solov’ev, Vitalij Milonov and Artemij Lebedev; in response, he announced his intention to file a class action lawsuit for insults against women. The scandal produced not only a political, but also a cultural discussion on the double standards of federal television.

A changing society

The period ends with two further signals. On the one hand, on the eve of the parade on 9 May, Moscow announces communication restrictions for 5, 7 and 9 May and a reduced-format parade, for the first time since 2007 without military means.

Restrictions and reduced crowds are also planned in St Petersburg. On the other hand, Cloudflare flags the domain of the national messenger Max as spyware, only to remove the label on 1 May.
The Max affair is indicative because it shows the difficulties of replacing Telegram with a national platform: at the end of March, only about 40% of the Duma deputies on Telegram had opened a Max account, with a much smaller overall audience.

Taken together, these elements do not demonstrate an imminent collapse of the Russian system.
It does, however, show an increase in internal complexity: war comes out of the front and penetrates schools, universities, infrastructure, businesses and borders; digital control produces economic costs and social irritation; cultural repression goes hand in hand with the rewriting of memory; regions show environmental, agricultural and energy crises; consensus remains high, but less stable and more nervous.

For Europe, the central fact is that the Russia of 2026 should not only be read through the external war, but also through the way that war is restructuring Russian society from within.