Navigating the narrowing space for lawful dissent in Russia

When the Russian government decided to block Telegram in February 2026 amid strengthening censorship and all-out mobile internet shutdowns, activists in cities throughout Russia decided to ask permission to host rallies against the ban on the most popular messaging app in the country. Among the forces trying to organize a rally was the unlisted Russian Communist Party of Internationalists, in Novosibirsk, the largest city in Siberia. After the authorities rejected their request, saying the rally's purpose violated the “principle of legality” by opposing the actions of Roskomnadzor, the Russian telecommunications watchdog that implemented the ban on Telegram, the party turned to an alternative approach. They submitted a notification through the online portal of the city’s mayor's office, a simplified procedure that, for a designated location in the Russian legislation known as the “Hyde Parks”, requires no prior approval for smaller gatherings.

Protest crackdown

The event, scheduled for March 1st 2026, did not go as planned, recalls Roman Malozemov, a local activist and a law graduate. “An hour before the event, the Hyde Park area was cordoned off with warning tape; police officers and security forces with batons came in. The city landscaping service arrived and started clearing snow and trimming trees,” he says. “The organizers arrived at the appointed hour, along with the participants of the public event. They were all rounded up without warning and thrown into a police van,” he adds. Malozemov himself, who arrived about 15 minutes later to film how the trees were being treated, also ended up being restrained and bundled into a police van.

They were all taken to the police station and detained illegally for several hours. Legally speaking, however, their detention was never officially acknowledged, Malozemov notes. “They didn't issue any reports against us, no charges for failure to identify ourselves, no record of the detention, no violations noted. They let us all go,” he recalls.

Yet, since then, the local authorities have been tightening their grip on public events, Malozemov observes. “I got the feeling that some order came from above to all city administrations to ban any public events because of the campaign against Telegram," he says.

The case from Novosibirsk is only one of many across Russia. In Irkutsk, the rally against the Telegram ban, scheduled for the same day, was cancelled at the last minute, allegedly because too many people wanted to participate, with authorities arguing that the social media post announcing the rally had been seen by more people than estimated in the original application. In Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, the rally was denied on the grounds that it could pose a "safety threat" to road users, while in Moscow, it was cancelled due to reported ongoing restrictions on mass gatherings to prevent the spread of COVID-19.

Moreover, the authorities also started targeting the organizers of these protests. Sergei Krupenko, the organizer of the protest in Novosibirsk, was detained later the same month and fined for organizing an “unauthorized rally”, which in his case means that he may face prison time if he organizes any further protests. Meanwhile, Grigory Gribenko, one of the organizers of the protests in Irkutsk, was detained in April after he refused a medical examination following a blood test requested by law enforcement and conducted at a city clinic that detected traces of marijuana in his system. This is despite the fact that an independent blood test returned a negative result.

Local authorities across Russia would likely not have pushed back so harshly against the Telegram protests had the ministry of internal affairs not declared them intolerable, suggests Radzhana Buyantueva, a researcher focusing on civil society and social movements in Russia. The messaging app was popular not only among the general population, but also among governmental bodies and political parties, some of which were planning to incorporate it into their campaigns ahead of the September 2026 parliamentary elections.

"If not for that decision, probably some regional authorities would have been allowing it, as they might personally side with them," Buyantueva argues. She positions these attempts to organize protests in the middle of the spectrum of publicly expressing discontent in Russia. Protesting against the invasion of Ukraine remains an absolute no-go, carrying the risk of criminal charges and lengthy prison sentences under Russia’s war censorship laws. At the same time, some local initiatives, such as demonstrations against rising utility bills, can still take place in designated locations with official permission.

Such issues, however, only get approved for rallies by the “right” applicants and should be framed accordingly, explains Alexei, an activist from Siberia whose name has been changed here to respect his request to remain anonymous. “Applicants should indicate in their notice that the rally is organized to appeal directly to [Vladimir] Putin to look into the matter,” he explains, based on the situation in his city.

Moreover, the line for when protesting in this form becomes concerning for the authorities is never clear, Buyantueva highlights. “Every kind of protest is inherently dangerous nowadays because of how it's going to be perceived by the authorities,” she says. “They can be considered political at any point.” The initiative to shut down dissent does not need to be clearly expressed from above, as was the case with Telegram. “It could be perceived by the local authority that there is some sort of expectation for Moscow to do so,” she notes.

Not always that way

Right now, Vyacheslav Ivanets, a human rights lawyer, considers that the opposition, or simply active citizens, no longer have any opportunities to exercise the right to hold mass events. However, he explains that was not always the case. After the 1993 constitution came into force, for about a decade, the right to peaceful, unarmed assembly, demonstrations, marches, and individual pickets alike, were truly in effect. “It was sufficient to notify the administration. The authorities simply took note of this information. Interference with the exercise of this right was extremely rare,” Ivanets recalls.

However, things started to change in 2004, when Vladimir Putin was re-elected for his second term as Russian president and the law on assemblies, rallies, demonstrations, marches, and picketing was adopted. The law introduced the concept of “approving” rather than simply “notifying” of an event.

“The authorities were given the right not to ban an assembly outright, but to propose a reasoned change of location or time. And thus, they had a mechanism for pushing protests to the outskirts,” Ivanets explains.

Under this law, the available space to express public dissent has been tightening, step by step, Ivanets explains. This has been done through amendments such as increasing fines or barring those fined for previous protests from organizing in the future. The law also now criminalizes protests by introducing the so-called "Dadin" article in 2014, which established criminal liability for repeated violations of protest rules.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, the authorities imposed a ban on public gatherings under the pretext of protecting public health, and eventually banned single pickets taking place near one another, considering them a mass event.

“Even after other restrictions were lifted, like the opening of stores, shopping malls, theatres, and concerts, the penalties for holding a rally were retained,” Ivanets adds. In some regions, they remain in effect to this day. All this was introduced even before the imposition of military censorship in 2022, as a result of which more than 1,370 people have so far faced criminal proceedings for expressing opposition to the war in Ukraine, and more than 380 citizens are imprisoned in pre-trial detention centres, penal colonies, or undergoing compulsory treatment, according to data compiled by the human rights media outlet OVD-Info.

Become a lawyer to understand your rights

Despite all this tightening against dissent, when the government announced the blocking of Telegram, it was “simply impossible” to remain silent, recalls Alexei. “The internet is the last island of freedom in our country. Where else can we get information from independent sources and communicate privately? Almost all official media outlets convey only the government's propagandist point of view,” he adds. However, he argues that simply ignoring the refusal from the authorities and taking to the streets without authorization is out of the question.

“You're unlikely to even make it to the event: you'll be detained beforehand, and at best, you'll spend a day in a police station where you're unlikely to be allowed access to a lawyer. At worst, you'll be charged with multiple offences and sent to a detention centre,” Alexei says. The consequences are also severe for would-be participants. “You'll likely be harshly detained. At best, you'll face a fine and problems with your employer, who will inevitably be pressured by the authorities. At worst, you'll face trial and arrest, and the outcome will be a matter of luck,” he warns. However, when trying to take into account all the laws, it almost feels like you have to be a lawyer to be able to abide by all the regulations while trying to express your opinions.

“Now in Russia, laws are written in such a way that you don't know how to comply with them,” Malozemov explains. “You don't know what you'll be jailed for. They're written so broadly that any disagreement you express can be used against you, and without knowing how to defend yourself, you're easily prosecuted," he adds.

As someone with a legal background, he tries to navigate the legislation. “I generally understand these risks, and to what extent I can go out legally without getting jailed for it," he says. "People who, unlike me, don't have a legal education and experience in activism, don't understand how to enforce their rights, because the fundamental principle of any legislation should be that it's understandable without a legal education,” he notes.

Finding like-minded citizens

The blocking of Telegram itself further limits civil society's ability to gather around a common cause, Buyantueva points out. "Civil society actors and activists also learn from each other how to apply for permission to protest, and how to legally conduct the protest," she says. “Telegram was also considered dangerous by the authorities because of all the communication among activists happening through the app. They started pushing to shut down everything and to allow only (the Russian state-promoted messenger) Max and (Russia's Facebook alternative) VKontakte, everything that could be easily monitored and controlled, in order to eliminate even the slightest possibility for activists to find each other, to communicate with each other,” Buyantueva adds.

When an activist applies to organize a protest, they also have to state how many people will attend. “They need to know whether it's going to be ten people participating in this event or maybe 100 or 200,” she adds. “This was often coordinated over Telegram; now it's blocked.”

Moreover, with the blocking, a segment of the population is already being cut off because not everyone can afford a good VPN (virtual private network) service through which they could access the app, she notes. “That's how the possibility for mobilization decreases significantly,” she adds.

Yet people keep trying to express their opinions despite all the hurdles. In Novosibirsk, the Russian Communist Party of Internationalists continues to voice its opposition to the Telegram shutdown policy by contesting the disruption of the March 1st rally in court. Malozemov is also asserting his right to organize rallies: he is currently challenging the Novosibirsk mayor's office, which argues that his “affiliation” with a foreign agent, that is a person or organization considered by the authorities to be under foreign influence, disqualifies him from organizing them. This is despite the fact that the law stipulates that as someone who is not a foreign agent, he should have the right to do so. He hopes to bring his case to the UN Human Rights Committee, but for now, he continues to express his stance through what he is still allowed to do: solo pickets.

 

Veronica Snoj is a Slovenian-Argentinian journalist and a Russian Studies graduate.