The Telegram ban shows that Putin fears losing control – but it will mean more Russians escape the state’s hegemonic narrative

by Mikhail Khodorkovsky

The Kremlin is once again attempting to tighten its grip on Russian society, this time turning its attention to Telegram, a platform that has been deeply embedded in the country’s digital, economic and military life.

Although no formal announcement of an outright ban has been made, the platform is expected to be effectively banned on April 1. The pattern is familiar. Telegram is running slower, publicly discredited and increasingly framed as a threat to national security.

Officials have warned of “foreign control” and vague “risks to state personnel”, while the Federal Security Service (FSB) – Russia’s intelligence service – has been unusually candid in acknowledging that the platform enables communication and, by extension, coordination.

It is precisely this that lies at the heart of the Kremlin’s concern. For all the official discourse and framing around security, this is about Putin’s most important weapon: control. Telegram itself is not the issue, but the autonomy it gives its users.

What is at stake is the preservation of a system in which information can be tightly managed and alternative accounts of reality kept firmly outside. For years, this system has depended on a simple condition: reality does not need to be convincing, only uncontested. Victories can be declared where none exist. Narratives can substitute for facts. This works as long as people lack the means to compare what they are told with what is actually happening.

Telegram disrupts that.

It is no coincidence, then, that the Russian authorities have sought to replace independent platforms with state-controlled alternatives, most notably the government-backed messaging service “Max”. Considerable resources have been invested in its rollout, while administrative pressure has been applied across schools, universities and local communities to encourage its adoption.

And yet the results have been underwhelming. Max has failed. State officials report impressive user numbers, but these figures are neither verifiable nor meaningful, because registration is not usage and compliance is not trust.

In practice, many users appear to register out of obligation rather than preference, and while channels exist, they are largely inactive. The facade is maintained, but it convinces no one, including those responsible for enforcing it.

It also helps to explain why authorities have shifted from promotion to suppression. If citizens will not voluntarily abandon Telegram, then Telegram itself must be made less accessible.

However, in pursuing this strategy, the Kremlin may have encountered an unexpected constraint. Previous restrictions on platforms such as Instagram or YouTube were met with a degree of resignation, as they were largely seen as sources of entertainment. Their loss was inconvenient, but ultimately tolerable.

But Telegram is not easily replaceable. It is not merely a messaging app, but an entire ecosystem, a platform for communication, work coordination, information access, news consumption, and real-time organisation, including on the front line. It operates outside centralised control, and in doing so, allows citizens to compare narratives with reality.

As a result, dissatisfaction has emerged across a wide spectrum of Russian society. Criticism has come not only from opposition figures, but also from pro-government commentators, regional officials and individuals involved with the war effort. There have been instances in which restrictions on Telegram have been linked, at least in public discourse, to operational difficulties on the front line.

Such reactions are significant because they reveal a rare point of internal friction. When a platform becomes sufficiently embedded in daily life, its disruption carries costs that cannot easily be dismissed or concealed. In attempting to assert greater control, the state risks drawing attention to the practical consequences of its own actions.

Instead of consolidating its control, the Kremlin is accelerating the erosion of its own authority. Citizens are not switching to state platforms, but turning to virtual private networks (VPNs) and other circumvention tools. What was once marginal is becoming mainstream. Each workaround weakens censorship.

Each restriction teaches users how to evade it.

The Kremlin appears to admire the Chinese model of digital control. But the contrast is instructive. There, the development of competitive domestic platforms preceded the restriction of foreign services, ensuring that users had viable alternatives. In Russia, by contrast, restrictions are being imposed before credible substitutes have been established, resulting in a system that relies more heavily on coercion than on functionality.

The likely outcome is not total control, but fragmentation. Some citizens will be forced onto state systems. Others will continue to operate beyond them. The internet will become less accessible, more expensive, and more complex but not fully controllable.

And in the process, something more significant will happen.

As barriers to communication become more visible, so too does the role of the state in creating them. The distinction between protection and restriction, often blurred in official rhetoric, becomes harder to sustain when the practical effects are widely felt.

For the UK and its allies, this creates an opportunity. By supporting access to independent information, strengthening tools that allow Russians to bypass censorship, and amplifying credible alternatives to state narratives, Western governments can engage directly with a society that is increasingly aware of the gap between propaganda and reality.

In attempting to protect its most important weapon, the Kremlin may be turning it against itself.

And in doing so, it is revealing something far more dangerous than dissent: the limits of its own control.

Mikhail Khodorkovsky is the founder of the New Eurasian Strategies Centre and co-founder of the Russian Anti-War Committee

The article was first published in The Telegraph