I am a director and screenwriter with over 20 years of experience at a theater in St. Petersburg. Much of my work, often created in collaboration with activists, explores social and political themes. Interestingly, my final project in St. Petersburg was an adaptation of 'The Knight in the Panther's Skin,' which I was unable to complete on political grounds. However, the set pieces for this project remain ready, awaiting their chance to come to life.

Since 2010, I have been collaborating with activist groups to stage political performances that highlight important societal issues. Often, those who speak the truth struggle to make their message clear and impactful. Thus, my aim has been to create powerful visuals that are easily understood by a wide audience and evoke a strong public response.

Since 2015, I have led the feminist project 'Eva’s Ribs.' We operated either as a non-governmental organization or an initiative group. In recent years, we opted not to officially register the organization to avoid being targeted under the 'foreign agents' law, as our work was already labeled as so-called political. Rather than providing services, our focus was on raising public awareness about gender inequality and promoting an anti-war agenda.

During my involvement in the Russian resistance movement, I closely observed numerous grassroot initiatives, opposition groups, and thousands of people determined to ignite change—yet ultimately, they were all defeated.

Now, as I sadly witness a similar situation unfolding in Georgia, I find it important to reflect on the history of Russian protests and understand the underlying causes of their failure.

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It’s important to recognize that political indoctrination in Russia begins from an early age. The narrative that “politics are dirty business” and “none of our concern” originates in schools and continues throughout higher education. Political passivity is cultivated as a way of life, embedded as a cultural code. From an early age, Russians are systematically taught two key beliefs: 1) They are inherently superior; and 2) Those in charge will sort things out without their involvement. This learned helplessness is masked behind the misleading notion that disengagement is a personal choice.

This is also part of families' collective memory, as the fear of repression—when one could be imprisoned or even executed for a political joke—still remains engrained in people’s memory.

When someone's curiosity emerges within this homogenous agenda, it is always the result of considerable effort and a significant step forward.

Next, people begin searching for like-minded individuals.

They start joining initiative groups, attending rallies, and meeting new people along the way.

Like-minded individuals are not that many. If we take a closer look at the Russian opposition spectrum, which was forced to leave the country after 2022, it appears as follows:

 Leftists and Communists – Those opposing the government because they long for a return to the Soviet past.

 Right-wing Nationalists – They aim to purge the country of people who don't fit a Slavic profile while simultaneously exploiting the resources and wealth that rightfully belong to those very communities.

 Libertarians – Advocates for market deregulation and dismantling the entire social system, indifferent to the economic collapse faced by populations in countries where such reforms were implemented.

 Liberals – They see the current regime as corrupt and dream of overthrowing it, yet issues like militarism, gender equality, ecology, and colonialism scarcely, if ever, are on their agenda.

 Civic Initiatives – These include groups where meaningful work can still be done, such as helping animals alongside politically active individuals.

Moreover, they all rally under the allure of a "great nation." The very concept of empire itself goes unquestioned and is not perceived as a problem. This is a cultural code that is exceptionally difficult to overcome. Even those Russians fighting on Ukraine’s side in the “Free Russia” legion largely subscribe to a right-wing agenda centered on the idea of a “strong, free nation.” Among the key causes of the war is the colonial mindset inherent to the empire, yet this is rarely, if ever, critically examined.

National and decolonial initiatives such as "Free Buryatia" and "Free Yakutia" only became visible after 2022. However, they were quickly labeled as extremist organizations and banned.

Despite the differences, these diverse societies still managed to unite and show up in massive numbers for protest rallies. The largest protests took place during the parliamentary elections of 2011 and 2012, when the elections were fraudulently manipulated in favor of the presidential party, "United Russia," and during the presidential campaign when Putin decided to run for a third term.

Every Sunday, even during the harsh winters, protests and marches were held in the major cities. In Saint Petersburg, where temperatures could drop to -24 degrees Celsius, participating in a march was truly not a pleasant experience, yet people still showed up, demonstrating their resilience and commitment to the cause.

Everyone thought the same, "Now we'll show them that we are the majority; the government will realize its wrongdoings, apologize, and step down." When you're completely new to political protests, you don't see the flaws in your expectations. You try to reinvent the wheel. Moreover, well-known opposition figures encourage participation, promising victory. They themselves believe this will be the outcome, though there's nothing solid underpinning these hopes.

Yet, when tens of thousands of protesters, many traveling from different regions, gathered in Moscow's squares despite numerous obstacles—such as being barred from boarding planes or trains, having their tires slashed, and facing similar challenges—there was a genuine sense that we represented the majority. However, this perception turned out to be false.

Like many of my colleagues, I volunteered as an election observer. In my district, I witnessed instances of ballot stuffing and manipulation of vote counts. The head of the election commission even approached me, asking if I would object to inflating Putin's vote count while reducing those of other candidates—an effort to create the illusion of overwhelming support. However, a closer look at the ballots revealed that a significant portion of the electorate had indeed voted for him—perhaps not the claimed 70%, but certainly around 40%, which was still far more than any other candidate. This happened even in a city as predominantly opposition-leaning as Saint Petersburg.

In 2012, following the presidential elections, a severe beating occurred in Bolotnaya Square. The crowd formed a chain, but OMON riot police pressed in, beating them without mercy. Escape was out of the question; dogs encircled the entire perimeter. Anyone attempting to break free would quickly realize that the army was stationed just beyond the OMON cordons. Memories of 1993, when people were shot in front of the White House, lingered, and we were well aware that the Russian army wouldn't hesitate to open fire from tanks if needed.

Here again, a false impression emerged. When you're right in the middle of it all, seeing barricades crafted from portable toilets, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in a human chain, and observing criminal cases being initiated against protesters, you might believe that the entire country is aware of these events. However, that was not the case.

You talk to young people—truck drivers, culture workers, workers—and nobody seems to know anything.

Even if a million people took to the streets, we would still represent less than one percent of the entire population of Russia.

The opposition pinned their hopes on the urban intelligentsia, primarily the residents of the capital and those watching opposition media channels. However, the urban intelligentsia and the broader Russian populace are two distinctly separate worlds.

The urban society often fails to understand this.

Information surfaced a year ago indicating that Russian servicemen returning from the battle in Ukraine were compelled to flee Moscow and settle in Novosibirks. While those in uniform were greeted with contempt in Moscow, they are praised as heroes in Siberia.\

Women in Saint Petersburg often do not believe that in regions like Volgograd or Penza, with populations of one to one and a half million, support for the war is nearly 100%. This is yet another false impression that arises within the confines of a social "bubble."

This distinction is also noticeable in Georgia. When you meet young people from Tbilisi, you get the sense that pro-European sentiments are widespread. Many who speak English also mention knowing Russian, explaining that they learned it because their parents advised them to "Know the language of the enemy."

However, if you visit Batumi or Kutaisi, someone might approach you and, in Russian, tell you how beautiful Russia is and how it will soon be victorious. It’s unexpected and always leaves you feeling uneasy.

In Kurt Vonnegut’s anti-war novel Cat’s Cradle, everything that comes into contact with water turns to ice. The same seems to be true with everything you hear in Russian—only Russian propaganda flows through Russian language. You sit in Georgia, a free, democratic country, yet through the words of a Georgian citizen, Russia speaks to you. It’s impossible to mistake this imperial language for anything else.

The imperialist concept is largely not addressed by Russian opposition figures. Even more, it frequently appears as though they endorse it, overtly emphasizing the importance of preserving Russia's current borders and asserting that it is a "great power." Additionally, they commend Yeltsin for his efforts in "crushing Chechen separatism." This mindset is evident in individual remarks, such as when Yulia Navalnaya openly dismisses the possibility of adopting decolonial rhetoric within the country.

Nevertheless, I am of the opinion that the most egregious error of Russia's liberal opposition leaders is the establishment of the "cult of protest," which involves the endless recurrence of actions that fail to bring about genuine change. There is a widely circulated meme that depicts the life goals of a Russian student: the first step is earning a diploma, then there’s a series of blank spaces, and finally, they’re sitting in a villa with lots of money, enjoying an ocean view. But is it really just the diploma that gets them there?

Standing at protests doesn’t automatically mean that the government will step down. Between the first step and the sixth, there must also be a second, third, fourth, and fifth step. Without those, nothing will change.

What was happening in Russia? There were so-called "honest citizens" who genuinely wanted change but were overly naive. Opposition leaders kept repeating to them: "We’ll go out to the streets, protest and show them that we exist." Step one: show them that we exist. Step six: the regime falls. Entirely missing from this plan were steps two, three, four, and five. Simply showing up with posters didn’t mean the regime would collapse. Well-meaning but naive people, who had placed their hopes in the opposition, were left with misguided expectations. They thought, "I showed up, I took a risk, I did everything I could." Thus Gradually, "achieving a political goal" was replaced by simply having a "clear conscience."

But if you’re an opposition leader, the energy of decent citizens should be directed toward changing the government, not merely soothing their conscience. Yet, no real political strategy was ever developed. The energy of these citizens was used solely to score political points for oneself.

In Russia, vertical relationships are deeply ingrained, which is why the role of liberal opposition leaders is so significant. A society that cannot self-organize always looks to a leader for guidance. If the president speaks out of turn, people turn to the opposition, waiting to hear their response. But if the opposition also falters, no one knows what to do next. The desire for change was so overwhelming that people couldn’t bring themselves to believe the opposition might be acting just as badly as the government.

Civil society in Russia operated on an echo principle. They are closing hospitals? We’ll stand to defend the hospotals; Someone gets arrested? We’ll stand with signs saying, “Freedom for the prisoner!” All of this is important, but if we don’t go on the offensive, if we can’t develop our own agenda and instead remain in constant reactive state to the government’s actions, we will always lose.

Considering how the repressive system operates in Russia—the relentless turning of its wheels, the countless people imprisoned, tortured, or killed for political reasons—it seems that victory was always out of reach. But on the other hand, it’s strange to persist with methods that clearly don’t work while refusing to try anything new.

At a time when LGBT symbols, regional symbols (in case someone decided to push for separatism), and many other things were completely banned in Russia, we marched through the streets with a giant four-meter vagina and a banner reading, “Feminism devours everyone.” The march went on for two hours in the city center, and no one was arrested because the authorities didn’t know how to react. It was a blind spot for them—they were utterly stunned.

It may seem like a small thing, but if we had some tools for resistance, we could have explored effective and unexpected methods of opposition—methods that have, time and again, left repressive state systems around the world utterly perplexed.

If you analyze weak points and work proactively, you can take the offensive. It is evident that Mahatma Gandhi’s methods are no longer effective in the post-Soviet context of the 21st century.

Looking beyond the Russian context, it is evident that right-wing movements are gaining momentum not only in Russia and Belarus but also in Georgia. This trend is becoming increasingly apparent across the globe. Civil society is facing diminishing opportunities in nearly every country, while mechanisms of repressive control continue to strengthen worldwide.

To counter them, it is crucial to adopt diverse strategies and take actions that catch authorities off guard. For instance, initiatives inspired by Paulo Freire, who emphasized political education for adult peasants, can serve as powerful tools for empowerment and resistance.

In his work Pedagogy of the Oppressed, Paulo Freire argues that the purpose of education is not to fill students' supposedly empty minds but to present them with the real problems that exist in the world around them.

Freire's goal was not merely to promote literacy but to help illiterate adults become aware of their economic, social, and political realities. This awareness was meant to ignite a desire for change.

In this fight—our fight—we need not just two, three, four, or five steps, but an infinite number of actions. We must try many different approaches until we succeed. As one of my human rights defender colleagues once said: “New restrictions should fuel our imagination.”

However, if we don’t cultivate political imagination and develop new strategies of resistance, it’s possible that in the near future, there will be no places left on Earth where we can migrate to or seek refuge.