‘They often have to compromise’

New civic initiatives are still emerging in Russia, despite war and repression. But even pro-government groups fear state reprisals.

In order to survive, many Russian activists are forced to seek financial support from the state — even when they hold opposition views — according to a new report from the Hannah Arendt Research Center, which studies civil society in Russia. At the same time, repression by the authorities and widespread public apathy affect not only independent grassroots initiatives but also pro-government and pro-war groups. Meduza outlines the study’s key findings and what they reveal about the current state of activism in Russia.

‘Reflexive solidarity’ but a widening rift

As repression in Russia intensifies, activists are showing signs of “reflexive solidarity” — even as the gap between different groups of activists continues to grow, according to a new report from the Hannah Arendt Research Center.

Reflexive solidarity emerges when people rally behind those who suffer injustice, even if they don’t share common interests or values. It implies a readiness to help those considered outside one’s own circle. “When one consciously transcends the friend-or-foe boundary, disagreements lose their disintegrating character and instead become a characteristic of the connections between people,” the researchers wrote.

Russian activists who practice this form of solidarity tend to resist hierarchical structures and are more inclined to come together through anger and outrage at situations they view as unjust.

“Reflexive solidarity isn’t just any solidarity, nor is it necessarily good,” sociologist Maria Vasilevskaya, one of the study’s authors, told Meduza. “It simply appears in specific forms and contexts.” In Russia, she explained, it is most visible in human rights work. The study also found a clear pattern: activists who exhibit reflexive solidarity are more likely to embrace democratic values and horizontal forms of cooperation.

At the same time, the study highlighted a widening divide between activists who have left Russia and those who have stayed behind. The split plays out in financial, informational, and visa-related issues, and increasingly in cultural ones as well. According to the researchers, exiled activists tend to place greater trust in fellow exiles than in those still inside the country.

Inequality within Russia itself further deepens the rift. Financial, educational, and other resources for activism remain heavily concentrated in Moscow and other major cities.

Animal rights is Russia’s fastest-growing grassroots movement — and one of the safest

In its report, the Hannah Arendt Research Center identified six main areas of civic activism in Russia:

• anti-war activism, human rights, journalism, and aid to vulnerable groups;
• environmental protection, preservation of cultural heritage, the decolonial movement, trade unions, and local initiatives;
• charity work;
• animal rights activism;
• cultural spaces, letter-writing evenings for political prisoners, and independent bookstores;
• movements of soldiers’ wives, support groups for Russian troops, right-wing activists, and other pro-government initiatives.

According to the researchers, animal rights activism is the largest — and fastest-growing — form of grassroots organizing in Russia today. These initiatives are visible across the country, from major cities to small regional centers.

Animal rights, the report explained, provide a comparatively safe way for people to express “solidarity, empathy, and justice.” Activists in this field rarely register formal organizations, but they often collaborate with each other. They may disagree with potential partners on other issues, yet are willing to unite for the sake of protecting animals.

As Vasilevskaya told Meduza, many Russians feel the need to exercise political agency, and they often do so through solidarity with animals. “To say that if a person can’t openly protest the war, they go to defend animals — that would be inaccurate. There’s no direct connection,” she explained. Still, she added, many Russians feel a moral imperative to do something for others — and in doing so, regain a sense of control. This doesn’t affect the political regime or even local politics. “It is a political act in the space of ethics,” Vasilevskaya said.

The number of initiatives is growing in other areas as well. Since the wave of repression that followed the full-scale invasion of Ukraine, many well-known activist groups have gone into exile, restarted abroad, or shut down entirely. In their absence, new independent projects have emerged, often launched by people with no previous activist experience, the researchers told Meduza.

These new groups fear repression and try to stay off the authorities’ radar. They avoid registering legal entities, rely on gray financial channels, and deliberately forgo charismatic leaders in favor of horizontal structures.

“In [large, established organizations], there is often one central figure — the face of the brand — while other team members are less public,” one of the researchers, who asked to remain anonymous, explained. “New initiatives, by contrast, try to be more horizontal. Everyone’s opinion carries equal weight, decisions are made collectively, and every participant has veto power.” In her view, this structure helps prevent collapse if one member becomes the target of state repression.

For many initiatives, survival means working with the state

Anti-war initiatives are often based abroad and operate underground. According to the report, they are less likely to face resource shortages but often complain about the lack of dialogue with activists still inside Russia.

Environmental initiatives, meanwhile, are still active in Russia’s regions and smaller towns. These groups tend to have few social connections and little visibility, and they are often perceived as “apolitical,” although they frequently issue demands of the authorities. Researchers believe that maintaining an apolitical image is a survival strategy that increases their chances of success. Even so, environmental activists fear repression, rely on secrecy, and often struggle with burnout.

The charity sector has become a target of state intervention, as the government seeks to co-opt the agenda. Activists adapt in different ways. Some confront the state, as in the areas of reproductive rights and maternal health. Others seek cooperation when their work involves helping people with chronic or serious illnesses. Some initiatives pursue funding from sources close to the government or from religious organizations. “These partnerships are extremely complicated — and far from black and white,” the study’s authors told Meduza. “It’s not as simple as activists taking either a pro-government or opposition stance. People are trying to survive and work under very difficult conditions, and to do this, they often have to compromise.”

Cultural initiatives and letter-writing campaigns for political prisoners, the report noted, recall the “dissident kitchens” of the Soviet era in their semi-public character. But today’s Russian “third places” are open to newcomers and have become entry points into activism.

Even pro-government activists fear repression

According to the researchers, the state often uses grassroots initiatives to normalize war and repression. But even pro-government initiatives can face reprisals when they draw attention to problems caused by official policies.

Pro-war activism is less common in Moscow and St. Petersburg. The researchers attributed this to mobilization patterns: the two cities see fewer conscripts and have more human rights activists.

Pro-government activists — such as volunteers who weave camouflage nets for Russian troops — were reluctant to speak with researchers. Most of those who did agree to interviews communicated anonymously or gave only vague, terse answers. Their complaints most often focused on a lack of support, both from the state and from society.

“So-called Z-activists are afraid of everyone: ‘foreign agents,’ ‘undesirable organizations,’ spies, and so on,” according to the researchers. “They live with the illusion that they are surrounded by enemies against whom they must rally. Their anxiety only deepens when the state itself begins pressuring them for highlighting problems the authorities cannot resolve. Many feel caught in a vice.”

Researchers quoted a pro-war activist as saying: “The military uniforms handed out by the Defense Ministry are supposed to last five years. [But they’re] crap, excuse me, stitched together from Chinese fabric in the cheapest factories. The guys wear them out in two weeks, tops.”

Activists are keeping internal conflicts out of public view

For the Russian authorities, political agency itself — and the horizontal networks that create space for criticizing the state — are treated as potential crimes. Civic initiatives, by definition, draw attention to pressing social problems and civil rights violations. According to researchers, that’s why the government has waged such an aggressive campaign against journalists and NGOs.

Once a group is branded “hostile” or hit with criminal charges, its audience shrinks and its funding is almost always cut off. “Many friends and partners have been labeled ‘undesirable’ and ‘foreign agents’ for a long time. It seems to me that it has become clear that all of this is just theater,” one activist told the Hannah Arendt Research Center.

Another problem, the researchers noted, is that activists have no clear sense of where the limits are. “For example, the last call was about ‘foreign agent’ books [works by authors Russia has designated as ‘foreign agents’]. No one could understand what we were supposed to do with them, which plaques to use, who was responsible for what, or what the restrictions were,” one respondent said. The uncertainty pushes groups toward self-censorship and keeps them from using potential resources.

Still, the use of more secure communication platforms, shared values, and “reflexive solidarity” are helping activists inside Russia trust each other more. Study participants said the most sustainable form of cooperation today is working together on a concrete problem.

Researchers also found that activists are now less likely to air professional disputes in public, hoping to avoid discrediting their field in the eyes of society. And while deep disagreements continue to strain relationships, they rarely prevent public displays of support.

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