COLUMN: Seven Years for Two Tweets — Putin’s Russia Is Devouring Its Last Remaining Opponents

Maxime Marquette

2026-07-01 16:26:45

Criminal Law Turned into a Tool of Repression

Kruglov’s conviction is based on Article 207.3 of the Russian Criminal Code, adopted in March 2022—just days after the launch of the full-scale invasion—which punishes the dissemination of “false information” about the Russian military. The law does not clearly define what constitutes “false information”: in practice, anything that contradicts the Kremlin’s official narrative can fall under its purview.

In the Kruglov case, the two posts in question contained no fabrications or falsehoods. One cited United Nations statistics—a recognized international source—on civilian casualties. The other showed a documentary photo of the devastated city of Mariupol with a caption about civilian deaths. These are facts. Facts that Moscow has chosen to treat as crimes.

Date of arrest: October 2025, in Saint Petersburg

Maxim Kruglov was arrested in October 2025 in Saint Petersburg. Shortly after his arrest, he was added to Russia’s registry of “terrorists and extremists”—an administrative designation that bars him from accessing bank accounts and public services and permanently stigmatizes his family and loved ones. This mechanism of systemic humiliation is characteristic of the regime: punishment does not end with the sentence—it extends to every aspect of the convicted person’s social life.

In December 2025, another co-chair of the Yabloko party, Lev Shlosberg, was charged with the same offenses. The party’s dismantling is underway—methodical and planned. Nothing is left to chance in Putin’s Russia when it comes to eliminating any dissenting voices ahead of an election.

The “terrorists and extremists” registry for a man who quotes the UN on Telegram—that is the very definition of a totalitarian state. Not Stalinist in the sense of mass gulags, but totalitarian in its logic: anything that threatens the regime is criminalized, not because it is false, but because it is true and disruptive.

Kruglov's Statements: Dignity That Defies the Verdict

“This case shows that dissent is illegal”

In court, Maxim Kruglov made no attempt to downplay his views. He spoke his mind with the clarity of someone who knows that his words will be read by history as much as by the judges: “This case shows that the authorities will not tolerate anyone who disagrees with them.” ” It is a sober statement, without exaggeration, yet with surgical precision regarding the nature of the regime that is judging him.

He also said that he remained opposed to the war and that he believed Russia would one day be a country at peace. In the context of his conviction, this conviction resembles both an act of political faith and a deliberate affront to those who imprisoned him. His lawyer noted that the seven-year sentence represents a reduction from the maximum penalty sought by the prosecution—a small gesture by the Russian justice system toward form, without changing its substance.

Sergei Mitrokhin: “A Return to the Darkest Days”

The former chairman of Yabloko, Sergei Mitrokhin, did not mince words after the verdict: “I believe this is a return to the darkest days.” ” The statement is grave. It implicitly evokes the Soviet era of political trials, purges, and institutional repression of thought. What Mitrokhin is saying is that Russia is no longer sliding toward authoritarianism—it is fully entrenched in it.

Amnesty International’s leadership, through Marie Struthers, director for Eastern Europe and Central Asia, was even more direct: Kruglov was imprisoned “not for any recognizable crime, but simply for expressing his opinions and calling for an investigation into alleged war crimes. ” This is an unequivocal condemnation of the political nature of this trial.

Mitrokhin calls these “the darkest hours.” I couldn’t disagree with him more. These are indeed the darkest hours—not those of the Soviet past, but those of a present that is creating its own dark past in real time. And that, perhaps, is even more disturbing.

Ukraine from the Inside: The SBU Arrests Eight Pro-Russian Propagandists

Eight people accused of supporting Russian strikes from Ukrainian territory

In a similar vein of cracking down on voices that undermine the war effort—but in a radically different context—the Ukrainian Security Service (SBU) announced in June 2026 the arrest of eight people accused of applauding Russian strikes from within the country and of spying for Moscow. These individuals are being prosecuted for war propaganda and attempting to seize state power.

A comparison between these two cases—Kruglov in Russia and the eight in Ukraine—is instructive and deserves careful consideration. In Ukraine, people are being arrested who, from within a country at war, actively encourage the invader’s strikes against their own population—an act that constitutes treason under any wartime jurisdiction. In Russia, a man is being imprisoned for quoting the UN.

The fundamental difference between democratic wartime repression and systemic authoritarianism

It would be intellectually dishonest to equate Ukraine’s wartime security measures with Russia’s systemic repression of the opposition. Ukraine, despite the extraordinary constraints of war, maintains a functioning judicial system, a free press, electoral processes, and an active civil society. Arrests by the SBU are subject to judicial and public oversight.

In Russia, political convictions like Kruglov’s are designed to be irreversible, to send an intimidating message, and to physically remove from the public sphere those who dare to contradict Putin’s narrative. These are not two sides of the same coin—they are two regimes that are fundamentally different in their relationship to truth, law, and freedom.

I want to be honest: Ukraine’s wartime restrictions deserve critical scrutiny. But the comparison with Kruglov’s conviction is a false equivalence. Quoting the UN on Telegram in Russia is not the same as actively encouraging strikes against civilians in Ukraine from within Russian territory. These two situations only appear similar to those who refuse to distinguish between the facts.

Yabloko on the Brink of Extinction: The Story of a Party That Refuses to Die

From the 1990s on the Fringes of Legality

Yabloko was founded in 1993 under the leadership of political scientist Grigori Yavlinski, who had notably drafted an economic transition plan for the bankrupt USSR. In the 1990s, the party was a political force representing liberal Russia—that of intellectuals, academics, and lawyers. It gradually lost influence as Putin consolidated his power, losing its parliamentary seats in 2003 and never regaining them.

Today, Yabloko holds only a few seats in regional legislatures and none in the federal parliament. But it continues to exist legally, to publish its positions, and to organize events. It is this residual legal existence that makes it a target: Moscow has not yet found a legal pretext to formally dissolve it, but it is sidelining its leaders one by one ahead of the September 2026 elections.

The 12 “foreign agents”: disqualification before the polls

The label of “foreign agent” is one of the Kremlin’s most formidable weapons against the political opposition. Assigned administratively, without a trial, it bars those who bear it from running for office, receiving funding, and working in many institutions. The 12 Yabloko leaders labeled as foreign agents ahead of the September 2026 elections will be barred from running—a preventive electoral exclusion that is perfectly legal under current Russian law.

This system of bureaucratic disqualification reveals the sophistication of modern Russian repression: no need for camps, no need for mass show trials—all it takes is using administrative law to render the opposition electorally powerless before the ballots are even counted. It’s more effective, less visible internationally, and just as devastating for democracy.

Twelve designated foreign agents in a single party before the elections—that’s judicial gerrymandering. The Kremlin doesn’t rig the results on election night: it eliminates the opposition before the vote even takes place. It’s intellectually more sophisticated than ballot box stuffing, and morally just as repugnant.

The September 2026 Duma Elections: A Predictable Farce

United Russia and Its Token “Opponents”

The Russian parliamentary elections scheduled for September 18, 19, and 20, 2026, will take place against a backdrop of systemic repression of any real opposition. United Russia, the Kremlin’s party, has put forward high-profile candidates: a wounded veteran of the war in Ukraine and a pro-Putin war correspondent—figures designed to capitalize on war nationalism. This is political theater in the service of an autocracy.

The parties authorized to participate—the Liberal Democrats, the Communists, and Fair Russia—have for years been pseudo-opposition parties that almost always vote with the Kremlin on key issues. They serve as a democratic fig leaf in a sham system. The real opposition, led by Yabloko, has been decapitated even before the campaign begins.

The Proposed Postponement, Rejected by the Kremlin

According to sources cited by Meduza, Russian officials had considered postponing the Duma elections due to Ukrainian strikes on Moscow. This option was rejected by the Kremlin—likely because a postponement would have sent a signal of weakness that Putin cannot afford. The decision to hold the elections as originally scheduled is political: it asserts that Russia is functioning normally, that the war does not affect the country’s (fictitious) democratic life.

This facade of normality is in itself a message: Putin wants to show his public—and the world—that Ukraine cannot disrupt Russia’s institutional functioning. Whether bombs fall on Moscow or not, the elections will take place. This is a demonstration of the regime’s resilience—a resilience achieved through total control, not through popular trust.

Elections organized to legitimize a government that arrests opponents who cite the UN—that’s theater. But it’s theater with real consequences: it provides Putin with formal legitimacy that he will brandish before diplomats who still seek to engage with Moscow as if it were a normal partner.

The Crackdown Spreads: Beyond Yabloko

Hundreds of People Imprisoned for Their Opinions

Amnesty International stated that Maxim Kruglov is “the latest in a long line of hundreds of people targeted in Russia for expressing anti-war views.” This figure is staggering. Hundreds of ordinary Russian citizens—teachers, journalists, lawyers, doctors, engineers—are languishing in prisons or penal colonies for a comment on social media, a sign held at a protest, or a private conversation reported by an informant.

This mass repression is not visible from the outside in the same way as the bombings of Kyiv. It takes place in discreet courtrooms, in remote prisons, and through silent administrative proceedings. But its effects on Russian society are profound: it creates widespread self-censorship, a public silence on the war, and a growing inability to collectively imagine an alternative to the current regime.

The Young Activists of Vesna: Twelve Years for Organizing Protests

The Kruglov case is not an isolated one. In April 2026, the St. Petersburg Municipal Court sentenced six young activists from the Vesna democratic movement to prison terms ranging from six to twelve years for organizing protests. Anna Arkhipova received a twelve-year sentence. These young people, just entering adulthood, will see their youth slip away behind bars for exercising a fundamental civic right.

The brutality of these sentences is calculated. It aims to terrorize an entire generation of potentially dissenting Russians, to show them what awaits them if they dare to speak out. It is the policy of the stick taken to the extreme—not to punish the guilty, but to prevent the innocent from becoming guilty by exercising their rights.

Twelve years for Anna Arkhipova, who organized protests. Seven years for Kruglov, who cited the UN. These figures must be repeated, over and over again, in every international forum where Russia asks to be treated as a normal member of the community of nations. This is not a normal state. It is a state that imprisons its citizens for their opinions.

The Russian Diaspora and Voices in Exile

Meduza, Novaya Gazeta Europa: Independent Journalism Beyond Russia’s Borders

Russia’s independent media landscape has gone into exile outside the country. Meduza, based in Riga; Novaya Gazeta Europa; and Reuters correspondents operating from abroad—these are the organizations that, from exile, document convictions like Kruglov’s. Their work is indispensable: without them, Russia’s political trials would take place in total darkness.

But they face a twofold challenge: their reports struggle to reach ordinary Russians, whose access to independent internet is increasingly restricted by Kremlin filters. And their exile cuts them off from certain internal sources, even as underground networks continue to operate. The battle for information is a war running parallel to the one on the Ukrainian front—less visible, but just as vital.

The Impact of Sanctions on Russian Civil Society

The official aim of Western sanctions against Russia is to weaken Putin’s war economy. But they also have a collateral effect on Russian civil society: by impoverishing the urban middle class—the natural breeding ground of the liberal opposition—they paradoxically reinforce the economic conditions that foster nationalist sentiment and rallying around Putin. This is a real strategic dilemma that Western decision-makers cannot ignore.

This does not mean, however, that sanctions should be lifted—they remain necessary to constrain the Russian war machine. But we should consider mechanisms to support Russian civil society in exile and internal resistance networks, so that a post-Putin Russia can build on something sustainable.

I admit to feeling a certain sense of powerlessness in the face of Russia’s domestic repression. We can document, denounce, and impose sanctions—but we cannot free Kruglov from his office in Paris or Brussels. What we can do is ensure that his name lives on, that his struggle is known, and that the free Russian community in exile receives the resources to continue bearing witness.

The Implications for Peace Negotiations

Can we negotiate with a regime that imprisons those who cite the UN?

Maxim Kruglov’s conviction comes at a time when some Western capitals continue to consider peace negotiations with Russia. The question deserves to be asked directly: Is it possible to reach a lasting peace agreement with a regime that criminalizes the citation of UN data and imprisons its political opponents just months before parliamentary elections?

The realistic answer is complex. Throughout the history of peace treaties, democracies have signed agreements with dictatorships. But such agreements have lasting value only if the signatory regime has an internal structure that compels it to honor its commitments. A regime that devours its own critics to silence them offers no such structural guarantees.

The Credibility of Russia’s Commitments Under Putin

The Minsk I and Minsk II agreements have shown what Russian commitments to conflict resolution are worth. Moscow has systematically used them as tactical pauses to rearm, reposition its forces, and prepare for the next phase of aggression. Any negotiations with the Putin regime must take this structural reality into account: guarantees on paper are worthless in the face of a power that disregards international law when it suits its purposes.

Freedom of expression in Russia and Ukraine’s security are more deeply intertwined than they appear. A regime that can imprison Kruglov for quoting the UN can also renege on any peace commitment as soon as conditions turn against it. It’s the same logic: reality bends to the Kremlin’s will, not the other way around.

Minsk I, Minsk II, and now Ankara. Each round of talks with Moscow seems to follow the same pattern: promises that Russia violates as soon as it is in a position of strength. Kruglov’s conviction is not just an individual tragedy—it is a systemic indicator of the nature of the regime with which the West is trying to negotiate. An indicator that should not be ignored.

The International Community in the Face of Repression: Speaking Out Without Taking Action?

Statements and Condemnations Without Consequences

Maxim Kruglov’s conviction prompted statements of condemnation from Amnesty International, various human rights NGOs, and likely Western foreign ministries. These reactions are necessary—they maintain normative pressure on Russia and document the violations for posterity. But their practical effectiveness in influencing the behavior of the Putin regime is close to zero.

Moscow has long decided that international condemnation is an acceptable cost compared to the domestic political benefits of eliminating opponents. This blatant indifference is part of the message sent to the Russian people: we do not fear the West; their protests change nothing; we do what we deem necessary.

Targeted sanctions against judges and prosecutors: an underutilized approach

One avenue that deserves further exploration by Western governments is that of targeted individual sanctions against judges who hand down political sentences and prosecutors who seek disproportionate sentences. The judge at the Zamoskvoretsky Court who sentenced Kruglov, the prosecutor who sought an eight-year sentence—their names are known, and their bank accounts and any properties they may hold in the West could be targeted.

This type of targeted sanction, provided for under the U.S. Magnitsky Act and equivalent European legislation, does not change the regime—but it sends a personal message to those actively participating in the crackdown. And it sets a precedent that could make certain Russian government officials more hesitant in the future when faced with politically motivated convictions.

Sanctioning the judge who convicted Kruglov—that is a concrete and symbolically powerful step. Not just another statement, but an action: you’re on the list now; you can no longer travel to Europe; your assets in the West are frozen. It doesn’t free Kruglov, but it makes the role of judicial executioner a little less comfortable.

The History of Political Prisoners in Russia: A Repeating Cycle

From Sakharov to Navalny to Kruglov: The Same Logic

The history of Russian political prisoners is long and tragic. Andrei Sakharov, Nobel Peace Prize laureate, was placed under house arrest in Gorky under Brezhnev. Soviet dissidents of the 1970s and 1980s were confined to psychiatric hospitals for “raving” about freedom. Alexei Navalny, poisoned, imprisoned, and died in custody in February 2024. And now Maxim Kruglov, sentenced to seven years for two posts on Telegram.

This cycle comes as no surprise—it is a continuation. Russia has never truly broken with its tradition of criminalizing dissident thought. The brief periods of relative freedom under Gorbachev and in the early years of the Yeltsin era have come to an end. Putin has systematically rebuilt the instruments of political repression, cloaking them in modern legal forms.

Memory as Resistance

Faced with this well-oiled machine of repression, the only lasting antidote is memory. Documenting every conviction, naming every judge, recording every sentence, archiving every statement by those convicted—this is the work carried out by organizations such as Amnesty International, Memorial (before its forced dissolution), OVD-Info, and dozens of others. This work of memory is not merely historical—it is a form of active resistance against the erasure the Kremlin seeks to impose.

Maxim Kruglov has entered the penal colony. But his name has appeared in Amnesty International’s press releases, in Reuters dispatches, and in statements by the Yabloko party. He will not be erased. And when the time comes to settle accounts—and it always does—his name will be in the archives of those who resisted.

Memory as resistance—it is the only weapon available to those of us who are watching from afar and cannot free Kruglov. So I am using it: Maxim Kruglov, 39, professor of political science, vice president of Yabloko, sentenced to seven years for quoting the UN. His name deserves to be repeated.

A Signal to Russian Dissidents in Exile

A clear message: Come back, and this is what awaits you

The sentencing of Kruglov—who was living in Russia and had not sought exile—sends a chilling message to Russian dissidents abroad: if you return, this is what awaits you. Russia is no longer just targeting those who flee. It is imprisoning those who choose to stay and resist from within—perhaps out of hope, perhaps out of loyalty to their fellow citizens.

This reality further isolates the internal Russian resistance, which is losing its bravest members one by one. Every high-profile arrest further convinces potential dissidents that there is no legal path forward, that political struggle through established channels is suicidal. The only choices seem to be exile, silence, or prison.

The West’s Responsibility Toward the Russian Opposition in Exile

The West cannot make choices on behalf of Russians living under Putin’s regime. But it can—and should—do more to support opposition groups in exile: fund independent media outlets like Meduza, provide resources to human rights organizations that document political prisoners, and create fast-track asylum procedures for threatened dissidents. This support has strategic value: it is an investment in post-Putin Russia.

Because that Russia will come one day—perhaps not tomorrow, perhaps not in five years, but it will come. And when it seeks the foundations on which to rebuild a viable democracy, it will need the Kruglovs, the Shlosbergs, the journalists at Meduza, and the activists at Vesna. Preserving them today means investing in that possibility.

Post-Putin Russia is an abstraction today. But all autocracies come to an end. The question is what remains when they fall. If the West does not invest in Russia’s democratic forces now, it risks facing a successor to Putin who is just as hardline as he is, but without even the opposition structures that have allowed men like Kruglov to resist.

The incredible courage of the eyewitnesses: those who did not flee

Staying in Russia and criticizing the war: an exceptional act of bravery

We must give courage its due. Maxim Kruglov was well aware of the risks. He had seen what happened to other dissidents—arbitrary arrests, show trials, and disproportionate sentences. And yet, he stayed. He remained in Russia, maintained his public position within his party, and continued to speak out—moderately, carefully, but clearly. This choice to stay rather than flee is, in the current Russian context, an extraordinary act of civil resistance.

Russians who flee are courageous in their own way: they give up their former lives, often their families, and their roots. But those who stay and continue to speak out, like Kruglov, take on an even more immediate and personal risk. They sacrifice their freedom, their future, and sometimes their health for the cause of truth. This form of internal resistance deserves to be recognized and celebrated by the West.

The Yabloko Movement as a Symbolic Guardian of an Alternative Russia

Even weakened, stripped of its leaders, deprived of resources, and with members labeled “foreign agents,” Yabloko continues to exist. This fact alone is remarkable in the current Russian political context. It is proof that there is a liberal political tradition in Russia that refuses to fade away entirely, even in the face of overwhelming coercive pressure.

This symbolic persistence has strategic value. It keeps alive, in the Russian public sphere, the idea that a different kind of politics is possible—that war is not inevitable, that freedom of expression is not a Western luxury, and that democracy can have authentic Russian roots. As long as Yabloko exists—even if marginalized—this idea survives. And ideas sometimes outlive the regimes that seek to crush them.

Kruglov chose to stay. He knew the risks. He paid for that choice with his freedom. I cannot help but be impressed by this kind of courage, which I am not sure I possess myself. The least we can do, from the safety of our democracies, is not to forget his name.

Russian War Propaganda and the Effort to Counter It

RT, Sputnik, and the Army of Pro-Kremlin Influencers

While Kruglov is being condemned for stating facts, the Russian propaganda machine is running at full speed. RT broadcasts in 30 languages. Networks of pro-Kremlin influencers are flooding social media in France, Germany, Italy, and elsewhere with narratives favorable to Moscow. These influence operations are funded by the Russian government, sophisticated in their execution, and specifically target Western democracies.

This asymmetry is striking: in Russia, free information is blocked from entering the country, and those who try to share facts are punished. In the West, Russian propaganda is allowed to circulate freely in the name of freedom of expression. This is not naivety—it is a strategic flaw that the Kremlin has been exploiting with remarkable effectiveness for years.

Countering disinformation without sacrificing freedom: the democratic challenge

The challenge for Western democracies is to find ways to counter Russian propaganda without mirroring the Kremlin’s authoritarian methods. Censoring RT was necessary in the context of the war—but it is an exceptional measure, not a general model. The real answer lies in media literacy, funding independent journalism, and supporting media outlets in the languages of Russian diasporas, such as Meduza or Novaya Gazeta Europa.

This is where Kruglov’s condemnation aligns with Western strategic interests: by silencing internal Russian voices that produce authentic information about the realities of the regime, Russia is not only suppressing dissent—it is eliminating crucial sources of information that help the West understand what is really happening in the country. This is an informational victory for Moscow and a strategic defeat for those who want to understand Russia from the inside.

Russia is silencing its Kruglovs while its influence operations swarm our social media. This asymmetry infuriates me. We should fund Meduza ten times more and use existing laws against Russian state propaganda in Europe. Not out of hatred for Russia—but out of respect for the truth that men like Kruglov have paid for with their freedom to defend.

Conclusion: Russia, by condemning the truth, condemns its own future

A Regime That Silences Its Cassandras

A regime that imprisons those who speak the truth does not eliminate the truth—it merely deprives itself of those who could help it navigate reality. Maxim Kruglov said that war is a tragedy, that it must be ended, and that civilians are dying. This isn’t subversion—it’s simply common sense. By silencing him, Putin’s Russia is eliminating the voices that could, one day, help the country break free from the dead end into which this war has driven it.

Empires that kill their Cassandras are the ones that collapse without seeing it coming. Russia in 2026 is showing increasing signs of a strained economy, an exhausted society, and a regime that can only maintain itself by silencing those who doubt. This isn’t strength—it’s institutionalized fear. And fear, in politics as in geopolitics, is a structure that always ends up collapsing.

For Maxim Kruglov and all the others

This column ends with a name: Maxim Kruglov. 39 years old. Professor of comparative political science. Vice President of Yabloko. Former member of the Moscow Duma. Sentenced to seven years in a penal colony for writing the truth on Telegram in 2022. He has not renounced his views. He said he believed that Russia would one day be a country at peace. This conviction, in its context, is a remarkable act of resistance. It deserves to be celebrated, remembered, and upheld until the gates of his penal colony finally open.

Seven years. He will be released in 2033, at the age of 46. Perhaps the war will be over by then. Russia may be different. Or perhaps not. But he will be released. And in the meantime, his name will be carried forward by those who, like him, refuse to let the truth be walled away in a penal colony. That is all we can promise from here. It is not enough. Yet it is necessary.

Signed, Maxime Marquette, columnist