ZOiS Spotlight 10/2026

The Paradox of Russia’s Internet Shutdowns

by Gregory Asmolov 20/05/2026

The Kremlin’s interference in the internet is no longer merely an emergency measure: it reveals a strategic shift towards broad control of Russia’s digital infrastructure. Yet criticism is growing, even from loyal groups.

Several people are sitting in a subway car and looking at their smartphones.
Smartphone users on the Moscow Metro: The Russian government is increasingly controlling access to internet services. IMAGO / Anadolu Agency

In 2019, the Russian authorities switched off the internet for a few hours to restrict connectivity at the time of specific antigovernment protests in Moscow. This conventional form of shutdown with a clear, tactical logic is common among authoritarian regimes. Recent instances in Iran, for example, show how shutdowns can support regime goals by limiting the coordination of protests, restricting information flows, and reducing transparency about state violence.

In March 2026, by contrast, Moscow’s mobile internet was shut down for nearly three weeks, while similar restrictions were imposed in other regions. The rationale for these wider blackouts is much less clear. Russia’s internet shutdowns appear to have shifted from exceptional instances of censorship to a more routine tool of wartime governance. The Russian authorities increasingly rely on temporary mobile internet restrictions in major cities and regions, especially during periods of heightened security concern, drone attacks, or politically sensitive events, such as the annual Victory Day celebrations.

Widespread disruption

Officially, Moscow presents these measures as necessary to prevent Ukrainian drones from using mobile networks. Yet the outages also point to a possible shift from blacklisting to whitelisting. In the earlier model of Russian internet control, the state mainly blocked specific platforms, websites, or sources of information. In a whitelist model, the logic is reversed: connectivity is restricted by default, while only selected and approved services remain accessible. In this sense, shutdowns may be not only emergency responses to drone threats but also experiments in a more sovereign and selective internet, where the state determines which forms of connectivity are allowed to continue.

The impact has been practical and social as much as political. Reports describe disruption to payments, taxis, navigation, cash machines, delivery services, online work, banking, and everyday communication. The rise in sales of printed maps during connectivity failures illustrates how deeply digital platforms have become embedded in daily routines. Shutdowns also harm small businesses and entrepreneurs, who are affected by outages, VPN restrictions, and pressure on messaging apps. Russian developers have described the restrictions as useless and harmful to the economy.

This disruption has led to frustration among social groups that are not necessarily oppositional and have not expressed any intention to protest against the Kremlin. Even loyal figures in the tech sector have warned that excessive digital pressure may generate digital resistance not among political activists but among ordinary people whose everyday lives are disrupted. Some loyal politicians and military bloggers have criticised the radical restrictions, warning that they could damage the internet itself and undermine coordination of the war on platforms such as Telegram. Despite this criticism, the Russian president’s spokesperson argued that all the restrictions were legal and essential to ensure citizens’ security, which was said to be the ultimate priority.

From censorship to control

This is where the Russian case becomes especially paradoxical. According to the Russian social index of anxiety, internet regulation is now the leading cause of anxiety among Russians. Drone attacks come second, but the level of anxiety they generate is about five times lower than that caused by digital restrictions.

Russia is often described as a form of service authoritarianism, particularly for the urban middle class: citizens give up freedoms and privacy in exchange for stability, convenience, and digital services. Internet shutdowns undermine this bargain. They produce an infrastructural grievance: people are not necessarily objecting to censorship or defending the freedom of information but reacting to the disruption of the connective systems that make everyday life possible.

The central riddle is that Russian shutdowns do not appear to reduce immediate political risks. On the contrary, they may increase them by alienating loyal and apolitical citizens, business communities, and parts of the elite. The threat posed by drone attacks may be real, but many Russians experience the war more directly when their internet connection is interrupted. In this sense, the shutdowns seem politically unbalanced.

One explanation is institutional. Control over internet regulation appears increasingly shaped by the security apparatus, which views the digital domain primarily as a vulnerability. Russian President Vladimir Putin, who is known as a conservative non-user of digital services, sees this vulnerability as something that must be restricted and regulated. In this light, the combination of security-driven regulation and a leader who views the internet as a threat may lead to policies that seem irrational from the perspective of those who rely on digital infrastructure in their everyday lives.

Russian internet shutdowns may appear politically counter-intuitive because they alienate and frustrate citizens. Yet from the authorities’ perspective, the blackouts are designed not only to reduce immediate security risks. They also test the state’s capacity to suspend connectivity and seek to get society used to conditional internet access.

These shutdowns therefore mark a shift from platform-specific censorship to infrastructural control. The state is not just blocking particular websites or messages but temporarily suspending connectivity itself. In this sense, the 2026 shutdowns can be seen as an expression of disconnective power: the strategic use of disconnection to manage risk, discipline society, and assert sovereignty over the digital environment. The regime accepts diffuse dissatisfaction as the price of reducing risks it perceives as urgent and existential.

The logic of disconnection

Russia’s 2022 full-scale invation of Ukraine has catalysed a long-standing project to transform Russia from an open, globally integrated system to a more closed and controllable one. Over the years, the Kremlin has pursued policies aimed at reducing political risks linked to openness, including by limiting Russia’s reliance on global financial infrastructure, regulating foreign tech platforms, and fostering domestic alternatives. These efforts reflect an emerging disconnective logic within the political system: a belief that decreasing exposure to transnational networks can strengthen authoritarian resilience.

This logic of disconnection has become a dominant force shaping Russia’s development. The regime’s increasing reliance on internet shutdowns can be seen as part of this trend. Yet as strategic disconnection disrupts the foundations of everyday life for most Russians, the balance between the political view of disconnection as essential for authoritarian resilience and the destabilising effects of this tactic becomes increasingly delicate.


Dr Gregory Asmolov is a lecturer in global digital politics at King’s College London. His research interests include the impact of internet regulation on social resilience, digital disconnection, digital sovereignty and propaganda, disinformation, and digital authoritarianism.