What is Victoria Bonya Dissatisfied With? ‘Military Putinism’ in the face of three frustrations

The political regime of ‘military Putinism’ as the new form that Vladimir Putin’s regime has assumed over the past five years is currently facing not yet a crisis, but certainly a crisis-like intensification, that is, a whole cluster of challenges, to each of which it has no convincing response. This does not mean that the regime will fail to cope with them, or that it will be unable to manage their crisis potential while avoiding an overly explicit display of weakness and limiting damage to its image and governance. However, this situation undoubtedly alters how citizens and elites perceive the regime’s capacity and capabilities, undermining the mode of self-assured power that it has brandished over the past three years.

From the perspective of the social mood of present-day Putin-era Russia, this cluster of problems can be described as three frustrations, that is, disappointment and unfulfilled expectations that are reshaping the socio-political landscape.

Military frustration

At the core of this set of problems, in our view, lies not the issue of Telegram or the MAX messenger, but the fundamental fact of the Kremlin’s inability to achieve its military objectives in Ukraine amid rising costs of the war. This is despite the fact that 2025 appeared to offer the most favourable window of opportunity for doing so. The cessation of American aid to Kyiv, the full mobilisation of Russian economic resources for military production, and a well-functioning commercial contract system seemed to create all the conditions for a decisive advance of troops and a demonstration of Russia’s advantage in a war of attrition. Yet this did not occur, the demonstration failed to materialise.

An additional bonus in 2025 was the efforts of Donald Trump, who, for his part, signalled confidence in Putin’s military machine and urged Volodymyr Zelensky to conclude an agreement acceptable to Moscow in the face of what was presented as its indisputable advantage. From a domestic Russian perspective, this instilled hope in both ordinary Russians and the elite that Russia would emerge from the conflict as the victor with ‘minimal bloodshed’, securing an easing of the sanctions regime as a result of the war. The strength of these expectations is reflected, in particular, in the fact that a meeting between Trump and Putin in Alaska ranked second on Russians’ list of the year’s events (surpassed only by inflation and rising tax burdens). This intense focus on the summit reveals expectations of an almost fairy-tale resolution to the conflict, in which Putin and Russia retain their military gains in Ukraine while being largely ‘forgiven’ by the West for the war.

By the end of 2025 and the beginning of 2026, these hopes had turned into deep frustration. The share of those surveyed expecting the war to end within a year declined from just over half in February 2025 to just over a third in February 2026 (Chronicles-ExtremeScan survey data, see Table 1). In recent months, as noted by Denis Volkov, director of the Levada Centre, focus groups have increasingly voiced the view that there is ‘no end in sight’ to the fighting and that the conflict could well continue ‘for another five to seven years’. Volkov considers the failure of ‘peace negotiations’ to be the principal disappointment of the year for Russians.

The share of those who believe, at the start of 2026, that military operations in Ukraine should continue has dropped to one quarter of those surveyed, according to the Levada Centre. Perhaps even more telling are the motivations of those who believe it is necessary to move to peace negotiations with Ukraine, two thirds of respondents. Alongside the general humanitarian argument that 'many people are dying', more radical views on the war have gained significant traction over the past year (see Table 2). 'The war is unnecessary, senseless, going nowhere, a bad peace is preferable' – such explanations were given by 35% of those favouring negotiations a year ago, compared with 59% at the beginning of 2026.

Table 1. 'When will the ‘military operation’ end?', 2025–2026, % of those surveyed

Table 2. 'Why do you think now is the time to start peace talks?', 2025–2026, % of those surveyed

Economic frustration

The second source of frustration in recent months has been a noticeable deterioration in the economic situation. While macroeconomists debate how close Russia is to a downturn and the onset of a recession, and to what extent a spike in oil prices might soften the budget crisis, at the micro level the picture is clearer. For ordinary citizens, the unmistakable sign of a sharp worsening has been that the problem of inflation, still perceived in surveys as running at 14–15% annually, has been compounded by a marked increase in the state’s fiscal pressure.

Alongside the introduction of a progressive income tax scale, a more sensitive factor has been indirect pressure through utilities tariffs (mandatory payments), an increase in the vehicle registration fee that has driven up prices for economy-class vehicles, rising fines across a wide range of areas, and so on. For small and small-to-medium-sized businesses, the increase in VAT has been a major blow. But this is not the whole story: the government is demanding that tax authorities raise collections to reduce the budget deficit, and they in turn have put pressure on businesses. As a result, what economists term the effective tax rate, that is, the real level of tax extraction under unchanged nominal requirements, has risen. Owners of beauty salons, hairdressers, workshops and small cafés increasingly report that they are either closing or planning to close their businesses. This marks a clear departure from the situation a year ago.

At the macro level, the mood is not much better. Shortly after a meeting with the president, during which the latter demanded that the country return to economic growth, Economy Minister Maxim Reshetnikov stated that the economy’s resources for achieving this have largely been exhausted. Moreover, the director of the Cherepovets Foundry and Mechanical Plant has argued that the import substitution programme launched several years ago has effectively collapsed, leaving participants exposed as resources for its completion are lacking and demand is falling. Reshetnikov has acknowledged that Russian business finds itself in a difficult position. This reflects the interaction of three simultaneous factors: a sharp contraction of fiscal stimulus in the non-military economy, an increased tax burden, and the persistence of a high Central Bank policy rate following only moderate success in curbing inflation. These are three adverse forces, with no clear counterweight for business.

However, setting aside the technical details, the core of this second frustration lies in the exposure of a basic reality: the apparent resilience of the Russian economy in the face of war and sanctions has been heavily dependent on the availability of accumulated or incoming rents from energy exports, above all oil. With the depletion of this source, the carriage of the sovereign economy, which had turned eastward, has begun to transform into a pumpkin right before our eyes.

There is, as yet, no full-blown economic crisis in Russia. Rather, what we are witnessing is a crisis in the political economy of military Putinism as it evolved between 2022 and 2025. The regime’s geopolitical ventures do not affect the vital interests of citizens and businesses so long as they can be financed by oil rents. Where this is no longer possible, their continuation depends on extracting resources from citizens and businesses. This creates a new situation for all actors, while the failure of last year’s hopes for a favourable end to the war takes on new significance.

Elite frustration

Economic pressure has so far been felt primarily by middle-income groups, while those with above-average incomes continue to feel relatively secure, their wartime dividend has been substantial and not yet been squandered. But it is precisely for this group that the Kremlin’s decisive campaign against Telegram has become a frustrating shock. The Kremlin’s intention to switch them from Telegram to MAX is, in essence, an even greater humiliation than the attempt by Deputy Prime Minister Boris Nemtsov in the late 1990s to switch the government bureaucracy from foreign cars to domestically produced ones.

From spring until nearly the end of 2025, Russia experienced continuous waves of mobile internet shutdowns. The FSB tested its capacity to disable access without damaging critical infrastructure, alongside the use of so-called white lists. Yet this large-scale disruption did not produce the kind of protest consolidation that is now becoming visible.

There were several reasons for this. The shutdowns were dispersed and unsynchronised, perceived as exceptional and temporary, and occurred against a backdrop of high expectations for a swift and favourable end to 'all of this' (the war and the associated inconveniences). But, most importantly, they did not affect the capital or the elite. In Moscow, there were navigation issues, but no major problems with the communications infrastructure or digital comfort. Everything remained readily accessible. The current intention of the Kremlin to block both Telegram and VPN services, particularly against the backdrop of mounting military and economic frustrations, has become an unambiguous signal of forcing a successful and broadly loyal elite stratum out of the carriage and into the pumpkin, not temporarily but permanently.

This is not to say that blocking Telegram and cracking down on VPNs affects only elite circles. On the contrary, it strikes at a universal communicative environment used across different strata of society. Moreover, it constitutes another blow in a sequence of measures already taken, including the slowing down of YouTube and the degradation of WhatsApp, which have been perceived with a high degree of sensitivity in non-elite Russia. In this case, however, elite groups find themselves in the same position, which gives the situation an entirely new scale.

Conspiracy theories suggesting that Instagram star Victoria Bonya voiced her grievances against the Kremlin in coordination with the 'civilian' wing of the presidential administration appear both absurd and, at the same time, plausible. The point is not whether Bonya coordinated her intervention, but that the emotions of her audience ('the people') and her social circle and interests ('the elite') are in this instance remarkably similar. These sentiments are by no means oppositional and may be described as a form of loyalist contestation.

This is a specific intra-regime conflict, the essence of which is often poorly understood. Over the past four years, both Bonya’s followers, the 'people' (over 10 million users on Instagram, which was officially banned by Russian authorities five years ago), and her broader circle, the 'elite' (in the broadest sense) have maintained relative loyalty to Putin’s war and to the regime, despite retaining access to Instagram, Telegram and VPN services. This access functioned, in a sense, as a bonus, a form of comfort granted in return for their conscious loyalty. For what reason, then, are they now being forcibly deprived of this benefit and of this important component of the status quo underpinning their loyalty?

The reason for the regime’s 'attack' on Victoria Bonya, her followers, and her friends is, in general terms, obvious. It lies in its inability to cope with the challenges described above in the military and economic spheres. This is precisely what compels it to 'attack' its loyal subjects, extracting both their resources, through taxes and administrative constraints, and the privileges of their conscious loyalty. Under the new circumstances, the regime is, in effect, beginning to doubt them. Yet this, in turn, is precisely what gives rise to an increasingly overt intra-regime conflict.