Why Putin Still Tolerates The “Z” Critics — And Why It Won’t Last

-Analysis-

RIGA — Vladimir Putin’s Russia is a repressive state. This is hardly news, having witnessed and experienced a purge of the media that began 25 years ago — one of the first political projects of the then newly elected President.

When Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in Feb. 2022, nearly all independent Russian outlets — Meduza, Mediazona, Holod, Verstka, and others — were forced into exile in order to keep operating. The publication you’re reading now, Holod, has been labeled a “foreign agent,” and is blocked in Russia and operates from neighboring countries.

In other words, the space for dissent hasn’t just been limited — it’s been burned to the ground. And yet, three-and-a-half years into the war, the Russian state continues to tolerate a sprawling media ecosystem that is hard to control, and in clear violation of the country’s repressive laws. It’s known to as “Z-media,” referring to the letter that has come to signify fervent support for the Ukraine invasion.

Here’s just one recent example: last month’s Ukrainian drone attacks on Russia’s strategic air bases — the so-called “Spiderweb” operation. Every video released by Ukraine’s Security Service (SBU) was reposted and scrutinized by Russian military bloggers. Z-bloggers, especially those fighting on the frontlines themselves, wrote hundreds of posts about the destruction of strategic bombers.

These posts were both angry and analytical, breaking down in sometimes brutally succinct expressions — “F-up” and “Disgrace” — the failure of Moscow’s military brass to defend itself.

Silence and security

Meanwhile, in Russia’s official public space, it’s as if the attacks never happened. The country’s two main TV channels devoted just 40 seconds of airtime to events in Irkutsk, Murmansk, Ryazan, and Ivanovo. Not a single outlet aired footage of the strategic, long-range bombers — worth tens of millions of dollars each — going up in flames, struck by drones that cost only a few hundred dollars and left behind nothing but neat piles of ash on the tarmac.

The Russian public isn’t interested in the war — so why agitate them with bad news?

President Putin also remained silent on this unprecedented attack on Russia’s strategic aviation. Reportedly, he complained to Trump — but behind closed doors, which means it doesn’t count.

And it’s easy to see why: if you pretend the problem doesn’t exist, then — for many — it doesn’t. The Russian public isn’t interested in the war: so why agitate them with bad news?

And yet, the Z-media voices — where Operation Spiderweb was dissected down to the last frame — remain untouched by the censors or security apparatus. This, despite the fact that nearly every other post published there could easily qualify as “discrediting the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation,” a serious crime that has landed many in prison.

No arrests. No prosecutions. For nearly four years now, Z-bloggers have been publishing harsh truths about the real situation on the front lines and within the military. And so far, the only one to have paid the price for it is Igor Strelkov.

There must be a logical explanation for this state of affairs. And I believe there is — a fairly simple one.

Volunteer hubs

The Z-community is tightly bound to a vast network of volunteer hubs and what might be called “garage-level military-industrial complex,” without which the Russian army would struggle to continue fighting. You can’t silence the voices telling inconvenient truths about the army without destroying the very infrastructure — the fundraisers and supply chains — that makes it possible for the Russian army not just to hold the line, but to go on the offensive.

And this isn’t only about the million-follower channels like Two Majors or Archangel of the Special Forces. If you crack down, say, on a modest blog run by military volunteer Rodriquez No Pasaran, then who’s going to supply Russian troops with ammo boxes for machine guns? The Ministry of Defense? It’s neither equipped for that, nor willing to bother. That’s not what the men with the big ranks and polished uniforms are there for. So for now, let Rodriguez and the thousands like him haul critical supplies to the front lines. Better them than us.

As long as the war continues, no one will touch the Z-channels.

As long as the war continues, no one will touch the Z-channels. No one will be sent to join Igor Ivanovich Strelkov behind bars for their systematic, daily discrediting of the military. But the key word here is “as long as.”

When the war ends

The moment the war ends — and the volunteer movement is no longer needed — this community of “passionate patriots,” and everyone even tangentially involved in it, will face a wave of repression the likes of which Russia hasn’t seen since the crackdown on Navalny’s Anti-Corruption Foundation. I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. And I’m not the only one who thinks so — the “patriots” themselves have already started making Z-memes about it.

Let’s talk about this in more detail.

Volunteers supply the front with drones, both reconnaissance and strike-equipped. They also send a wide variety of supplies and equipment: generators, civilian vehicles used for evacuations, troop transport and weapons delivery, body armor, helmets, encrypted digital radios, diesel stoves, thermal blankets, and so on.

In recent months, some large Z-channels have even asked the public to send electric scooters, unicycles, and hoverboards.

The list goes on. Vehicles used across the front line are repaired with funds raised by volunteers. Dugouts are built with their help. Over more than three years, I’ve seen fundraising campaigns for motor oil for tanks and shovels so that military airfield personnel could clear snow. There have been fundraisers for diesel fuel and drinking water. In recent months, some large Z-channels have even asked the public to send electric scooters, unicycles, and hoverboards — to be used both for fast movement along the front line and for conversion into ground-based drones.

A perfect army

Yet over the past month, the Z-world has been rocked by a storm of controversy after State Duma deputy Olga Zanko proposing a ban on individuals from collecting donations through personal bank cards. The unanimous view across the Z-community — with the exception of state-aligned channels — is that if this ban goes into effect, volunteer fundraising will grind to a halt, and shortly after, the war effort itself. Because without volunteer support, the army cannot keep fighting.

To acknowledge the role of the volunteer movement in supporting the war effort is to admit that the army has problems.

Let’s skip the unnecessary details and get straight to the point. The biggest challenge that volunteers present to the Russian state is their very existence. To acknowledge the role of the volunteer movement in supporting the war effort is to admit that the army has serious problems. And how can a state that’s spent four years chanting “The army has everything it needs” make such an admission? Here’s how a well-known volunteer and author of the Romanov Light channel puts it:

“The Ministry of Justice won’t register a charity fund if it declares that it helps the army — they’ll find any excuse to reject the application, but the real reason is ‘the army has everything.’”

And the problem goes far beyond the Justice Ministry. Z-bloggers say Russian servicemen often have to request help anonymously, because if they go public — naming their unit and describing the issue — they risk serious trouble with their commanders, up to and including being sent on assault missions where the death rate is extremely high.

Putinist state

Commanders do not tolerate public appeals for aid, because each such request is proof that something is wrong in their unit. And that, in turn, gives higher-ups a reason to come down hard on whoever is deemed responsible.

While regular soldiers are focused on survival at any cost, commanders, as volunteers often report, “couldn’t care less about such trifles.”

The state’s attempts to drag volunteer operations into the formal, accountable public sphere may well backfire — by exposing the truth about the state of the war. Taken together, this paints a strikingly accurate picture — not just of the army’s current condition, but of the fundamental logic underpinning the Putinist state.

Here’s the problem: the army wasn’t prepared for war and likely cannot keep fighting without volunteer support. But acknowledging that reality is impossible, for several reasons. First, because Vladimir Putin personally declared that “we have everything we need.” And second, because it’s highly likely that a great deal of state funding was allocated for this “everything.” And if everything has mysteriously disappeared, then someone would have to investigate. Which means someone would have to be jailed. A lot of people.

But the war still needs to be fought, doesn’t it? And since resupplying the military is impossible without mass purges, anti-corruption investigations, and a total overhaul of the armed forces, the only viable solution is to turn a blind eye to what the volunteers are doing. At least, this seems to be the logic of certain well-informed figures within the Ministry of Defense.

Which brings us back to that Z-meme I mentioned earlier.

Civil society

The volunteer movement and the work of Russian civilian volunteers with the military at the front — this is nothing less than civil society in action. Literally, by the book. Civil society is defined as a network of voluntary associations or non-governmental organizations, independent of state institutions but subject to the rule of law. Operating within the state, but outside its formal structures, civil society serves as a private sphere committed to the public good.

This civil society knows perfectly well the real state of affairs in the army.

It is civil society — let’s set aside the moral assessment of its actions for now — that has formed around Putin’s war over the past three years. An effective one — and not just on paper, but in reality.

This civil society knows perfectly well the real state of affairs in the army — and in the state. Moreover, it’s a civil society with a clear internal ideology and a form of patriotism that’s not imposed from above. When people risk their lives driving toward the front line, fully aware that at any moment a drone or a shell could hit their vehicle, that’s not performative patriotism — that’s the real thing. It’s a civil society that knows military needs in the most technical, military-specific sense — communications, weaponry, protection…

You see where I’m going with this, don’t you?

Round ups

Now imagine: the war ends.

Does the Ministry of Defense need people who understand better than anyone just how incompetent it is in military matters? How corrupt it is? Nope. And does the Russian state want thousands of highly motivated, ideologically driven individuals — who’ve proven capable of coordinating expensive operations on a national scale — people who understand modern warfare and are willing to risk their lives?

I know what some volunteers think about this — or at least what they write publicly. That they will become the foundation of a new Russia. One that learns from past mistakes, punishes the guilty, enacts real reforms. A Russia without backdoor politics, institutional corruption, unjust courts, or unaccountable security forces. A Russia with fair elections and human rights. That’s what they hope for. That’s what would give meaning to their sacrifices — and to the sacrifices of Russian soldiers at the front.

But do you really think it’ll turn out that way? I don’t.

Because in Vladimir Putin’s Russia, there has never been room for civil society.

I think that as soon as the war ends, the Center E (*the Centre for Combating Extremism) and other security agencies will hit — and exceed — their targets for rounding up “extremists” and “discreditors.” Because in Vladimir Putin’s Russia, there has never been room for civil society.

So if I were a volunteer — and many of them are not stupid — I’d start thinking seriously about what the future might look like when the tolerance for criticism truly arrives at zero.